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whumpflash · 1 year

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I posted 56 times in 2022

That's 29 more posts than 2021!

27 posts created (48%)

29 posts reblogged (52%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@onlyinmyshadow

@a-game-of-stars-and-ink

@whumpsday

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@shydragonrider

I tagged 55 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#whump - 21 posts

#whump writing - 9 posts

#whumpflash - 8 posts

#royal whumpee - 7 posts

#fantasy whump - 7 posts

#slavery tw - 6 posts

#whumper turned whumpee - 6 posts

#sunandglass - 6 posts

#royalty whump - 5 posts

#tw torture - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 115 characters

#but back then i was shy about liking whump so everything is painfully vague and you can practically feel my caution

My Top Posts in 2022:

cw: mentioned torture, breakdown, threats, language

context: ...not a lot. This is just a drabble I wrote a while back with no real plot attached. The vague bits I have in my head are about two factions at war with each other in a semi-apocalyptic setting.

After hours patrolling the border of Gracer territory, the team was ready to call it a day and head back to the haven. But no sooner had Petra called everyone over, than she was interrupted by a sharp whistle. Ryker, her second in command, came from the other side of a rock formation, hauling something along with him.

"Looks like we've got an audience." Ryker tossed a lean body into the center of the group, and Petra instantly recognized Casper, one of the Gracers' agents. He landed with a groan, then pushed himself up shakily.

He looked… more haggard than the last time she'd seen him. Tired. Considerably thinner.

"Hey guys," he said. "Been a while."

"Come to spy on us again?" Petra asked.

"Not at all… in fact, I wanted to see if you could use an extra hand."

She scoffed at that. "Extra hand? So you followed us out here to ask if you can wash dishes around the camp? Fat chance." She gestured to the rest of the group. "Let's move. If he tries to follow us, someone shoot him in the leg."

Her team turned to leave.

"Wait!" behind him, Casper was standing, starting to follow, but something was wrong about his walk. More than just a limp, he stepped as if everything was causing him pain.

"What did I just say about you following us?" Petra called back, though she couldn't quite force a bite to the words.

"Shoot me then!" he snapped. "I was serious about wanting to help… I can tell you about the Gracers. Everything I know."

"I'm sure you'll understand why I think that's a load of horseshit," Petra snorted.

"Give me a chance!" he protested. "Tie me up if you have to. Make me your prisoner. But take me with you. Please."

It was the please that caught her off guard. "That's an odd request," she said. "You trying to play hostage again? Had so much fun last time? Fine. We'll save you the trouble and drop you back off at your side right away."

"My side?" He laughed humorlessly. "My side? Do you know what my side did to me?"

Petra said nothing, only stared at him with a grim set to her mouth. He continued anyway.

"When you gave me back the first time, they thought I was a plant. They wanted information, and they made it clear they'd do anything to get it, they…" he took a breath to steady himself, smiling in a crazed way. "Beatings, lashings, electric torture… they burned me, they drowned me, they, they," Something had changed in his face, a frantic kind of desperation nquickly setting in. He took another breath, more like a gasp, "They stripped me completely and left me outside for a while, didn't feed me, made me beg for-- for any comfort, anything that would help me survive--" his chest hitched violently. "I can't go back, I can't go back, please you have to understand, I know they'll do it again, I know they won't stop until there's nothing left, please--"

Alice was the first to break away from the group, of course she was. She pulled the sobbing Casper into a hug, hushing him and gently rubbing his back as the rest of them looked on.

Petra couldn't say she knew what to make of it. Seeing her once-proud rival break down like this was enough to shock her into silence. Part of her wanted to scream at Alice to get away, that this had to be a trick, but the desperate look on his face shut that thought up. This wasn't an act. She sighed.

"We won't send you back," she said at last. "But star's sake, pull yourself together. We need to get moving."

Alice shot her a biting look. "Petra. He's been through a lot."

"And he'll go through it again if the Gracers catch up with us." To punctuate her statement, she pulled Casper to his feet, maybe a bit too rough. His body still shook with sobs, but he took a step forward, Alice supporting his other side.

"Once we get back to the haven, I'll look you over," Petra said. "Can't have infection setting in."

Casper nodded. She suspected if he tried to speak he'd just start crying again, so didn't push it.

She glanced over her shoulder. The sun was beginning to set. With any luck they'd make it back to the haven before dark.

"Alright. Let's move."

And let's hope this isn't a mistake.

44 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

Sun and Glass, part seven

previous part

cw: slavery, dehumanization, panic/trauma flashback (nothing explained, just a reaction)

After the first day on the road, it was clear he didn't speak a lot, not even if she asked him a question, and Rena was starting to understand how truly afraid he was of saying the wrong thing. Helping him move past that would prove a difficult task. Consistency would be key. She started taking notes on a blank piece of parchment.

I must never raise my voice at him, she wrote. Absolutely never raise a hand against him.

Give the chance to make choices, even if he'll only choose what he thinks I want. And…

She tapped her chin with the end of her pen.

And somehow find ways to show him he can be "wrong" and not get punished.

Dawn was breaking in full force outside the carriage window, and when she glanced up from her paper, she saw Caelon was leaning forward in his seat, watching the sunrise. She found herself smiling.

"Pretty, huh?" she said, then regretted it as he flinched at her voice and quickly returned to his usual hunched pose.

"It's alright," she said. "No one's going to stop you from looking out the window."

He looked up at that, then slowly leaned forward again, albeit much more stiffly this time. Absently, Rena wondered if he remembered anything, if he knew who he was at all. If in his rare moments of peace, he'd ever thought about what he'd lost.

She wrote, Try and see what he remembers. Help him remember who he is.

Well. No time like the present.

"Caelon?"

"Yes, Mist-- Rena?"

She smiled at that. "I want to know if you remember me at all." He probably wouldn't, but it was an easy start. She knew some people never forgot a face.

"I… you were at the castle with my M-- no, with the lord, Lord Trisk," he said, confusion plain on his face.

"I was," she answered. Maybe he thought she was trying to toy with him. "But I meant before the castle. Years ago."

"Years…" his mouth moved quickly, as if he were muttering something frantically to himself. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know-- there's, there's so much--"

"It's alright. It was just a question. There's no right or wrong answer." She met his eyes, trying to give him a gentle look. He glanced away.

"Let me ask you something else."

"Of course, Rena."

She stopped herself before she could ask 'what do you remember'. It was too vague. She might confuse the poor man, or send him spiralling into a bad memory.

"Do you remember that you used to be a prince?" She asked instead. He froze at her question, his breath hitching, and he said nothing.

Did he remember?

"Caelon?" Rena said, leaning forward in her seat.

"I… remember."

Rena felt a burst of joy in her chest. "What do you remember?" she asked, a bit too quickly.

He shook his head quickly. "I--I don't wanna-- the play a-actors, I traveled with th-them and--" his words came out faster and faster, guided by a shaking voice. "I know I sh-should be grateful, I-I should be, but at night-- I h-hated night--" he was crying now, the words tumbling out becoming too incoherent to make sense of.

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45 notes - Posted January 10, 2022

Sun and Glass, part nine

previous part

cw: slavery

Home for Rena was a cozy apartment, graciously paid for by her parents while her diplomacy business found its footing. Of course, 'cozy' was synonymous with 'small', and now she had a house guest for the indeterminate future. But she was determined to make it work.

"Caelon," she said as the carriage entered the city. "I want you to be aware that you're free now, alright?"

He nodded, and she continued.

"Meaning you don't have to stay with me. You can go where you want, and do what you choose." She doubted he'd choose to leave, but it was important that he knew he could.

"I… do you wish for me to leave, Rena?"

She sighed. "It isn't about what I want, okay? What do you want?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed. "If it pleases you, Rena, I will stay with you."

The realization hit her, all of a sudden, that he was treating her name as a title. A replacement for the word 'mistress'. He probably thought it was a preference of hers.

"Caelon," she began. "You know I don't own you, right?"

"But…" he looked up at her. "Who does, then?"

"Nobody," she said plainly. His expression, confused before, now seemed to cloud over.

"Oh. Am I being sold back to the traders?"

"Caelon, it isn't a matter of buying and selling, it's--" she halted, forced herself to lower her voice as she saw him draw back, away from her. "Your freedom is your own. No one is going to try and sell it to someone else." She bit her lip, thinking for a moment. "You own you."

The confusion returned. "I… own me?"

Rena smiled. "Yes. And you're free to stay with me, as I've said, but no one is going to force you to stay anywhere."

Caelon looked up at her, his jaw working with unsaid words. "I-I'll stay with you," he said at last. "And, and I can help around the house. I can help, I'll do whatever you ask of me."

Rena felt her heart sink a little, but her expression softened. Baby steps. "Yes, you can stay with me if you want," she said. "And I wouldn't mind some help around the house. Speaking of…" She leaned forward in her seat as the carriage came to a halt. "We're here."

Her apartment consisted of five rooms: a bedroom, a bathroom, a small kitchen, a tiny office, and an area for receiving guests. The lattermost was occupied when she walked in.

"Excuse me, I, uh…" Rena frowned. "Mom?"

"How was your trip, dear?" Her mother smiled up at her from the cushions. "Sorry if I startled you, I was only anxious to hear how everything went. It is your first, after all… oh." Her voice trailed off as her gaze landed on Caelon, then darted back to Rena, sharp and questioning.

"Yeah. Mom, this is… a friend of mine. He's going to be staying with me for a while."

Her mother cleared her throat, standing. "Rena, if I may..?" She pulled her towards the office. Rena cast a glance back at Caelon.

"Wait here," she said. "And, um, make yourself comfortable."

Her mother closed the door. "Rumors about you have been flying around town the last two days. I never imagined they'd be true." She fixed her daughter with a piercing look. Rena shifted uncomfortably beneath it.

"The rumors are probably unfounded--"

"The rumors said you won a slave in a poker game, and you just walked in with a grown man--"

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48 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

cw: medical whump, implied/aftermath of torture, a variant of institutionalized slavery, starvation

The reason behind the empire's medical excellence was an open secret. The kind that everyone knows and nobody talks about.

After all, the best doctors were the ones with a lot of experience.

So the empirical medical academies sought to give them that experience.

Medic had known what would await them at the intensive school for combat medicine. In their two years of rigorous training, they'd already worked on victims of gunshot wounds, amputations, severe burns, and worse.

Every single wound had been inflicted by the instructors. Medic told themself that they had no problem with this.

The patients were all volunteers. Criminals opting to lose an eye, a hand, a litre of blood, instead of pay an egregious fine. Prisoners after a lighter sentence. Murderers who'd rather lose a limb than their life. Everyone here, one way or another, had signed up for this.

And it was good. Right? These people were furthering medical research with their misery, suffering so that others would live. And the students were well trained before being given a live casualty. The majority of the volunteers lived, took a pension, and were free to go.

Do no harm, Medic thought, a tinge of bitterness around the words. But they knew they could push it all out of their mind soon. They had one final exam and then they'd never have to think about this system again.

Rumors from previous students said it was the hardest yet, but Medic was ready. Ready to graduate and join a unit and save people and make it all worth it.

They lined up alongside their fellow students as instructors began calling names and leading them into a hallway one by one. When at last Medic's turn came, they followed their instructor, waiting to hear the rules for this last test.

"Welcome to your final," the instructor began. "All of you have worked hard to become the best field medics in the world. But there is one last trial you must face to prove yourself."

Medic nodded, listening eagerly. Almost done.

"When you're working with a combat unit, there is always the chance you'll be tasked with caring for a rescued hostage or prisoner. You may have to keep them alive for days without reinforcements, sometimes in a hostile environment."

"I understand, sir," Medic said. They knew what would be expected of them.

"Then you understand your final test," the instructor said with a smile. "In a few minutes you will be dropped off in the wilderness. After three days, we will pick you up and the test will be over. If you feel unable to complete three days, you can call the academy at any time to terminate the exam, but please understand that this will constitute as a failure."

Medic nodded along, though their mind was racing. Their final test was to survive? What did they know about finding food in the wild? Water? What if they got hurt? They knew they'd have to try. They'd made it this far. It couldn't be for nothing.

"Yes sir," they said. "I'm ready."

"Not so fast," the instructor said lightly as they came to a stop in front of a closed door. "That's only half of it." They turned a lock and pulled the door open.

Inside, an emaciated man shrunk away from the light that spilled from the doorway, ducking his head and raising bound hands as if to shield his face from a blow.

Medic felt their mouth go dry as they took in his form, years of training kicking in automatically to catalog his wounds. Bruises in various stages of healing littered his flesh, alongside scattered cuts. It looked like he'd been beaten with something heavy enough to break skin. On more than one occasion. His right leg looked to be the worst; darkly bruised and swollen at the knee. Likely sprained, if not broken.

"Wh-what is..?" they heard themselves say.

"You never know what condition you'll find a hostage in," the instructor said. "Along with yourself, you must also keep him alive for the three day duration."

The man flinched as the instructor stepped inside, frantically murmuring something that might've been a plea for mercy. Medic cringed as the instructor seized a fistful of the man's hair and threw him into the hall.

They felt like they were going to be sick.

Instinctively, they knelt at the man's side, ready to start their procedures, but the instructor's hand on their shoulder stopped them.

"You're not on the clock yet," he said callously. "Don't try and get ahead."

Medic stood slowly, feeling like the room was spinning around them. All this for a test.

They'd starved this man. Beat and terrorized him until he was too afraid to even look up. And it was all for an exam.

Criminal or not, he didn't deserve this. Criminal or not, it felt wrong.

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75 notes - Posted November 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

detective whumpee if you like it >:3

DETECTIVE WHUMPEE YOU SAY??

this feels fresh let's see if I can come up with some prompts--

-you know ''detective gets in too deep and is caught by the baddies'' is already a popular trope, expanding on it could be very fun (but not for the whumpee)

-Detective Whumpee is pushing themselves to their limits to solve a case. No food, no sleep, no breaks. They're so close. Bonus points if they get captured while in this state of exhaustion

-i also love the "being beaten to pulp by villain/henchman and is saved at the last minute by an acquaintance they don't fully trust" type of beat and I feel like that fits here

-i am a huge fan of both goofball genius mystery solvers (ie Dirk Gently or The Doctor from Doctor Who) and the ultra-serious, broody PIs from classic noir and I'd love to see both archetypes as whumpees

-relating to the above, put those two as partners. Goofball is trying to reason with the villains/whumper, Broody is making quips under his breath. Both are getting viciously backhanded.

144 notes - Posted March 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #Please enjoy this very long scroller because almost everything is a straight up fic chapter

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whumpflash · 2 years

Text

Sun and Glass, part ten (epilogue)

previous part

It was slow at first. Caelon was like a ghost haunting her home; pale and silent, always hovering nearby as if he wasn't sure what to do. Like if he interacted with the world around him, it'd all just melt away.

It took two weeks of reassurance before he'd eat without being given permission, and she knew it would take more time than that for him to be comfortable just existing without following some order or another.

But Rena was willing to be patient.

She discovered quickly that routine was her friend; if Caelon knew what to expect in a day, he seemed less afraid, less likely to panic and frantically apologize for a perceived mistake. Days like that were okay though. It let her show him it was okay to mess up.

In the morning, she'd cook breakfast while Caelon set the table. (They cleaned the kitchen together afterwards.)

After the morning meal, Rena would work in her office for a few hours while he read. (He'd spent the first weeks hovering near her desk. The first time she offered him a book, he seemed afraid that it was some kind of trap. But she'd seen the way his eyes lit up.)

Afternoons were for meetings, in her own apartment or her clients'. (She'd always let him know in the morning. He seemed to enjoy the walks through town.)

And evenings were dinner and conversation between them. (After a little gentle prodding, she'd found that he enjoyed cooking. They took turns with the evening meal after that.)

Day after day, Rena fell into step and so did he. The tension poured out of him slower than molasses, but it was pouring out. Time left him more ready for choices, and Rena made sure to give him plenty of room to choose. She made sure to ask him again, at least once a week, if he was happy. If he wanted to stay. He said yes every time, and every time she believed that he meant it a little bit more.

As days turned to weeks, silence turned to quiet conversation turned to cautious but unprompted questions. Rena would answer whatever Caelon asked, then ask him a question in turn. She was careful to avoid the topic of his past, so it came as a surprise to her when he brought it up on his own.

He didn't say a lot, but Rena listened intently and made it clear she was willing to hear more. That much seemed important.

They had a system between them, and somehow it worked. Nothing was perfect, but it was good. It was safe.

And certainly, the healing path Caelon would have to walk was a slow one. A long one. But he walked it all the same. And Rena was happy to keep him company on the journey.

tag list:

@fleur-des-lore , @fandomseksta , @whumpwillow , @and-then-there-was-whump , @pumpkin-spice-whump , @suspicious-pools-of-blood , @melodyvonmelody , @fantasywhumpco , @silent-starry-night , @i-cannot-remember , @wits-and-wrongs

#a bit shorter #i felt like it should be a little vague but still optimistic/happy #doesn't necessarily mean im done with the characters #they might come up in other works #but this specific chapter is done :)#sunandglass #recovery #deconditioning

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whumpflash · 2 years

Text

Sun and Glass, part five

previous part

cw: (this is a bit whumpier) scars, slavery, abuse, whipping, sexual implications (mentioned)

For all his shortcomings, Trisk was a man of his word. He escorted her down, to whatever room he'd sent Caelon to, and left her to it. Rena stood in front of the door hesitantly, unsure of exactly what she'd see on the other side. It couldn't have been more than a half-hour since he'd been dragged away by the guard, but Rena didn't know enough about… whatever punishments Lord Trisk inflicted to say how long it took to really hurt someone.

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open slowly. A chill hit her, and she could see the open bars near the ceiling, letting in both moonlight and the cool night air. As her eyes began to adjust to the dim light, she spotted Caelon, slumped on the floor in one corner and looking very, very, small.

Rena took a step into the room, which was empty enough to echo the sound, and Caelon curled in on himself tighter.

"Please… please, don't… I, I swear I won't do it again, please--"

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said in a low voice. "I want to help."

Unbidden, the image of the sneering boy Caelon had been came to mind, a stark contrast with the shivering man in the corner. She closed her eyes briefly, fighting off the memory. Bitter reminiscence could wait until later.

She knelt next to Caelon, who didn't move an inch. The thin tunic he wore had an odd pattern, with dark patches scattered across it seemingly at random. With a start, Rena realized the darker spots marked where blood was seeping through the cloth.

"M-my lady, please… my master will--"

"He isn't your master anymore," Rena said. That got his attention. He painstakingly pushed himself into a kneeling position, letting out a hiss of pain as he turned to face her, head bowed.

"Forgive… nnh, forgive me, Mistress, I, I wasn't aware…"

"Oh," Rena said, her eyes widening. "No, that's not what I meant--"

His eyes darted up for a half-second. "Then... who?"

She shook her head. "No one. You're free."

For a long moment, he was silent.

He can't believe it, Rena thought. Or maybe it's just sinking in.

"Am I to be put to death then?" Caelon said at last, his voice barely audible.

"No!" Rena exclaimed. A bit too loudly, she thought, as he cringed away from her voice. "No, of course you aren't," she said, softer.

"Th-then what is to happen to me?" His hands were shaking now. His whole body was shaking. With fear, or cold, or pain... or more likely, a combination of the three.

Rena pressed her lips together tightly. An explanation could wait until he felt safer. "For now, why don't you just come up to my room with me? It's much warmer."

Again, Caelon gave a single, jerky nod, and moved to stand, using the wall for support and wincing through it all. He flinched back when Rena reached out a hand to help. She withdrew it. Best to keep her distance then, at least for now.

Getting from the cell to the guest suite proved a tedious process, and they made the journey in silence--aside from the occasional whimper from Caelon. The slow pace pushed Rena towards impatience, but she bit the feeling back as best she could.

It's like when you come across a deer in the woods and hold your breath so it won't get spooked, she thought, watching Caelon make his way up the stairs from a few feet ahead. When they finally made it to her room, she felt the frustration ebb away. But it wasn't over yet.

"Will you have a seat on the bed?" she said, after closing the door behind them. Wordlessly, he obeyed. Rena popped the lid of her trunk, digging around until she found a pair of scissors and some clean linens. She scolded herself for neglecting to bring along any medicines, but the little bottle of brandy that had been intended as a parting gift to Lord Trisk would serve as a disinfectant. Caelon didn't make a sound as she cut the linen into strips and filled a bowl with warm water.

"Hold still now," Rena said, once everything was ready. "I'm going to cut off your shirt, alright?"

"Please…" Caelon whispered. Rena frowned, looking down at the man. He was crying, fear bright in his eyes.

"Please, just- just not yet--"

Trisk's previous comment about bedslaves flashed through her head, and Rena's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh. No, I would never… I-- I'm sorry, that's not what I meant at all." Internally, she berated herself for not better communicating her intent. "I'm just trying to get a look at your injuries, is that okay?"

She wondered what she'd do if he refused--she couldn't just let the wounds fester-- but he only nodded. It was hard for her to say if it was genuine or if he was just agreeing in order to please her. With a sigh, she began to cut away his shirt, being as gentle as she could with the parts of the fabric that stuck to his wounds.

If the way Trisk treated him hadn't been enough to make her feel sorry for Caelon, getting a look at his bare back would've done the trick. Scars over scars over scars, a ledger of years of suffering carved into his flesh. She could tell they traveled further, maybe all the way down his legs, and a few curled around his chest. There were half-healed marks criss-crossing his lower back, and layered on top of it all was a neat row of fresh welts across his shoulders.

Rena realized she'd been staring, and dipped a square of linen in the warm water, tearing her eyes away. She couldn't get wrapped around the axle about everything that had happened to Caelon, she had to focus on what she could do right now.

He flinched under her touch when she brought the cloth to his back and began cleaning the worst of the welts, the ones that were still oozing blood. Throughout the process he didn't move, didn't speak unless you counted his yelp at the touch of a brandy-soaked cloth. Once the wounds were bandaged, Rena pulled back to survey the man.

Was there anything else she could do with what she had right now? There were bruises scattered across his torso, some new, some old, and now that his shirt wasn't hiding it, she saw how painfully thin he was.

Unlike the rest of him, his face was unmarked, save for a bruise on one cheek.

Pretty face, she grimly thought of Trisk's words.

There were his wrists too, rubbed raw by rope or shackle, with scarring beneath that told her this wasn't a new thing to him.

She reached for his hand, starting to clean the wounds there.

"Is there anything else?" Rena asked. "Anything hurting you that I can take care of?"

"N-no, mistress, thank you… I'm sorry you had to take the trouble for me."

Rena elected to ignore the title he'd given her for now. That could wait to be addressed until he'd gotten some sleep.

"It isn't trouble," she assured him. She wasn't sure he was free of more injuries, but she wasn't about to ask him to remove any more clothes. Not right now. There were no noticable bloodstains on his pants, or anything that gave her cause to worry.

Rena considered drawing a bath for Caelon, but decided against it. Judging by his reaction with the shirt before, it would likely do more harm than good, and he was reasonably clean already.

"I think it's time you get some sleep," she murmured. Caelon looked up hesitantly.

"May I… can I go back to the cell, Mistress?"

Being called that--and by Prince Caelon, no less--was jarring. Rena reminded herself to choose her battles.

"If that's what you really want," she began. "But it's much warmer in here. Why don't you sleep in the bed?" she said, then added quickly, "without me. I'll sleep on the floor."

Caelon's brow furrowed. "You… the, the bed? I can't, I… my Master-- no, wait, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Mistress, I didn't mean to forget--"

"Shh, it's alright." She had to stop herself from putting a hand on his arm to try and comfort him. "It's alright. You can sleep where you want. I want you to choose."

He blinked a few times. "Choose." His hands fidgeted in his lap, and he glanced up at her, briefly, then back down at the ground.

"I… I will sleep on the floor," he said, the words tentative, almost like he was asking a question. Seeing if he'd chosen what she'd wanted him to.

Rena gave him a smile. "Okay, good. If that's what you want, you can sleep on the floor." It was better than the cell. It was a start.

Caelon made to lay down almost immediately, stiffly lowering himself to the ground and curling up next to the bed. He seemed surprised when Rena handed him a pair of blankets, but did not try to refuse them. He was asleep before the lights were out.

Rena lay back on the bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling. What was she doing? With the challenge of at least making Caelon safe out of the way, a bigger one lay before her; making him feel safe. And she was woefully unequipped.

This wasn't going to be as simple as sending him on his way, he was her responsibility now. It was a heavy responsibility, but…

No way you can back out of this, she thought, closing her eyes. And there's no way you're going to give up on him.

@fleur-des-lore , @fandomseksta , @whumpwillow , @and-then-there-was-whump , @pumpkin-spice-whump , @suspicious-pools-of-blood , @melodyvonmelody

next part

#caretaking scene my beloved #as much as i want to keep updating daily ill probably have to slow down here #gonna be BUSY these next few weeks #also i should probably name this story #whump #whump writing #royal whumpee #royal whump #slave whump #slavery tw #scars tw #bruising tw #abuse tw #cold whump #whipping tw #caretaking #patchup #begging #sunandglass

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whumpflash · 2 years

Text

Sun and Glass, part eight

previous part

cw: slavery, dehumanization

They came to an inn just as the sun was ducking under the horizon. The previous evening, they'd stopped for the night at a farm, paying the farmer for a bed in the loft. Caelon had been alright through that, but an inn would be much busier, and Rena wasn't sure how he'd do around crowds of people.

It wasn't as if Trisk kept him in isolation. Maybe he'd served at parties before and this was nothing new to him? Asking him was pointless, of course. He responded to nearly every question with, 'if it pleases you, Rena'. Figuring out how he really felt was going to take a long time.

Short of making him cry again, she thought with a pang of guilt.

The carriage came to a halt, and Rena hopped out to speak with the driver and give him coin for his own room and meal. Then she went back for Caelon.

"Hey," she said, then waited for him to lift his head a little. "We're staying the night here, okay? It's a little crowded, but I can pay for an individual room so it shouldn't be too bad."

"As it pleases you, Rena."

She had the feeling he'd give the same answer if she told him to throw himself off a cliff. But she smiled anyway.

"Follow me, then."

Before they'd left Trisk's, she'd outfitted him with one of her nightshirts and a spare travel cloak. Both fell a little short on him, but he was thin enough that it wasn't too obvious he wore borrowed clothes. He wouldn't have been able to fit into her boots, but her driver had been courteous enough to lend Caelon a pair of his own. The result left Caelon looking almost normal, if you could ignore the ever-present fear in his eyes. Still, Rena hoped it was enough to help him blend in. The last thing she wanted was strangers scaring him.

She stepped into the warm firelight of the inn, Caelon right behind her. Most of the tables were occupied, but a pair of empty chairs at the bar top caught her eye, and she moved to claim them. Caelon took his seat beside her carefully, almost like he was afraid it would crumble beneath him.

Rena looked away from him and caught the bartender's eye, sliding a hold coin across the bar and holding up two fingers. The man grunted and stepped closer.

"Y'want ale too? Or just some dinner?"

She glanced sideways at Caleon. "Just the food. We'll be needing a room as well. Got one to spare?"

"Be another gold for the room. We're all but booked."

"Done," she said, tossing him the coin.

"Food'll be out soon." The bartender turned back to the rest of his customers.

The inn wasn't the noisiest she'd stayed in, but it was still pretty loud. The noise didn't seem to bother Caleon, and a careful look told her his disposition hadn't changed much. So at least he wasn't obviously uncomfortable…

A server set two bowls of stew in front of her, and she murmured a quick thanks, then slid a bowl over to Caelon.

"Eat up," she said. A chuckle came from the other side of him.

"You gonna let her buy the drinks too?" a brawny man with a dark beard slapped Caelon's shoulder, and the blond man froze. "A real man don't let a woman pay for dinner."

Caelon, characteristically, did not respond, only kept his eyes locked on the wooden bar top. Rena cleared her throat.

"Sorry for the confusion, sir," she said, forcing a bright smile. "My cousin is a newcomer to this land. He's not aware of the customs."

The man swung his arm around Caelon's shoulders in an overly-friendly gesture. "Well no time like the present to teach him--"

"Thank you, but I think he'll be fine," Rena cut in. "If you'd be so kind as to leave us to our dinner?"

The bearded man huffed, but removed his arm, turning back to his own bowl with a muttered word.

"Are you alright?" she asked Caelon, who hadn't moved an inch.

"I… fine, my-- Rena."

"Okay. Go on and eat. It's pretty good," she said, holding off on her own food until he picked up the spoon and took a bite.

"Some people are bad at personal space, but they don't usually mean you harm," she said in a low voice. "But if someone is making you uncomfortable, just let me know, okay? I won't let anyone hurt you."

Caelon nodded. "Thank you," he said in a soft voice.

"Anytime."

They finished their food without further interruption, making their way upstairs shortly after. The room provided was tiny but clean, with a single wide bed taking up most of the space.

Rena tapped her fingers on her arm. The bed was certainly large enough that they'd both have plenty of space, but she wasn't sure how comfortable Caelon would feel.

"Would you like me to sleep on the floor again, Rena?" he asked, quiet beside her.

"Not really..." she replied. "It'll be too cold. I don't think you'll get much rest."

"I've done it before," he offered, but she shook her head.

"We can share the bed. I'll take one side, you take the other, okay?"

After a moment, he nodded. "O-okay."

She pressed her lips together, trying to think of something that might ease his fear a bit.

"Caelon? What side do you want to sleep on? Left or right?"

He looked up at her. "What side-- um, whichever you choose for me, Rena."

"I'd like you to choose," she said patiently. "Neither is wrong, but it's up to you."

"I…" he trailed off, and for a long moment, she thought he wouldn't continue. Then, "I will sleep on the left side."

Rena smiled at him. "And I'll sleep on the right. Thank you for choosing."

She sat on her designated side. Baby steps. Maybe next time she offered him a choice, he wouldn't hesitate.

"I'm going to sleep, okay? Make sure you get some rest." She pulled the blanket over herself and turned her back to him.

Tomorrow she'd be home.

tag list:

next part

#i dont usually write drawn out recoveries #(ignore riot kings cause i have action scenes to distract myself)#so this is weird for me #but i kinda like it #whump #recovery #slavery tw #slavery whump #royal whumpee #caretaking #sunandglass

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whumpflash · 2 years

Text

Based on this prompt by @whumpwillow

Sun and Glass, part one

cw: slavery, dehumanization, abuse, violence

She knew his eyes. She was sure of it. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been a tyrant of a child. Though more than a decade had passed, Rena knew she wasn't mistaken. The gaunt, fearful man before her was no other than Prince Caelon.

So that's what became of you, Rena thought, watching him hurry to remove her bags from the carriage, his eyes locked on the ground. She remembered being so scared of him when she was what, ten years old? Now she almost wanted to laugh at the memory. The bully had gotten what was coming to him, it seemed.

"Lady Rena," a voice said pleasantly. She looked up to see a man making his way towards her from the castle entrance. He was dressed in a manner that was simple but elegant, with sharp facial features.

"Lord Trisk, I presume?" she said, offering a slight curtsey. "I come on behalf of Lord Adelard, regarding a business arrangement."

Trisk waved a hand. "We'll save the dull stuff for dinner. For now, let me show you to your room."

"I'd thank you for that," Rena said, truthfully. It had been a few days' journey, and while she loved the freedom of travel, it wore her out. She cast a glance back at Caelon, who had paused in his efforts the moment Lord Trisk made himself known and was standing silently.

"Back to work," Trisk snapped, and Rena swore she saw the former prince flinch.

"Is he..?" she began.

"Useless, is what he is, " the lord replied, starting towards the door to the castle. "The seller swore he'd do the work of ten, but he barely makes up for the space he takes up as one."

Right. It was easy to forget that some of the other kingdoms still kept slaves. Still, if she hoped to pursue a career in diplomacy, Rena knew she'd better respect the practitioners, even if she couldn't quite stomach the practice.

"From whom did you acquire him?" Rena asked.

"Just a pair of traders. Can't even remember their names. He was pretty enough to catch my eye, and looked strong enough to work, but…" he shrugged. "You see what I ended up with."

"Does he have a name?"

Trisk shrugged again. "Traders called him Six. There were ten or so slaves in their lot, I think that's just how they sort 'em. I was thinking of calling him Sunny, 'cause of the hair. What do you think?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Of course," Rena said absently. So not even Caelon's master knew he had been a prince. She wondered what series of events had turned him from that arrogant child to a nameless slave. She almost felt a touch a pity for the man. Almost.

A crashing noise sounded behind her, and Rena spun around. Caleon had crumpled under her luggage, it seemed, and one of the trunks had split open, spilling her clothing across the stone floor. The man was bent over it, frantically trying to throw everything back where it belonged.

"Damn the fool," Lord Trisk said with a huff, breaking out in a stride towards Caleon. The other man froze as his master reached him, sitting with his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. Without warning, Trisk backhanded him with enough force to snap his head to the side. Without much more than a small yelp, Caelon returned to his hunched, unmoving position as Trisk spoke in a hushed, angry voice above him.

"Made a fool of me…disrespect my guest… pay for this later…"

Rena only caught a few words, but they were enough. She waited, feeling a bit awkward, until Trisk finished his tirade and rejoined her.

"You see? This is exactly the sort of behavior I meant."

"With all due respect my lord, it didn't seem to be his fault," Rena said. "Accidents happen."

"Accidents are the result of a careless individual. I'll beat that lesson into him a hundred times if I have to."

Once again, Rena felt the twang of pity for Caelon. This time, she didn't try to deny it.

They reached the room she was to stay in, a spacious, well-furnished suite, without any further delay. Trisk gave her a time for dinner, told her he'd send someone to fetch her, and promptly walked away. She watched him go with more disdain than she'd previously thought possible to accrue in such a short time.

Caelon appeared not long afterwards, Rena's things balanced in his arms. She moved to take them from him, and the man staggered backwards so suddenly that he almost sent them crashing to the floor all over again.

He hurriedly set the baggage down. "A-apologies, m'lady," he murmured, ducking his head and making for the door.

"Wait," Rena said. He froze in place at her command, holding so perfectly still she wondered if he was even breathing. Rena walked around so that she was facing him. She'd been sure it was him earlier, but the difference in attitude was so drastic she found herself doubting. His head was bowed, shaggy blond hair all but obscuring his face.

"Look at me," Rena said. The man's breath hitched, almost imperceptibly, and he raised his head to meet her eyes, looking at her in such a way that she could tell he was fighting to not drop his gaze back to the ground.

It was as she'd thought when she'd first seen him. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his face was too thin to be healthy, and every ounce of arrogance was gone, but it was unmistakeably him.

"M-my lady, I'm sorry. That trunk--"

"Oh, none of that," Rena said, waving her hand to dismiss it then immediately regretting the action as Caelon flinched. She sighed.

"What's your name?"

The question seemed to catch him off-guard. "I... Driv-- no, no, no, it's Six now, isn't it? It's… he hasn't told me yet, I'm sorry, I--"

"Calm down," Rena said, her voice coming out a little more forceful than she'd intended. Caelon's jaw snapped shut, and he… was he trembling?

"Caelon," she said, forcing her voice to come out soft and low. "Do you know who I am?"

He shook his head, a sharp, jerking motion. "My lady, I… I can't. I'm sorry, I don't know. I don't know anything, I know I'm not good for anything, please--"

"It's fine," Rena said. "You can go."

He nodded once, then practically bolted for the door. Rena felt her stomach twist as she watched him go. He was, undeniably, Prince Caleon.

But he was not the Prince Caelon she had known.

part two

#royal whump #so fun #whump #whump prompt #slave whump #slavery tw #tw abuse #tw violence #reluctant caretaker #sunandglass

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whumpflash · 2 years

Text

The Cold

( a prequel to Sun and Glass)

previous part

cw: slavery, captivity, disjointed mindset, very vague noncon reference

His new master names him Fawn and sticks him in a cell and it's cold and it's cold and it's cold. When he has the strength to stand, the little barred window tells him that the trees have lost their leaves already. Some mornings there's frost on the bars. Some mornings there's frost on his blanket.

New Master had seen him on the stage and wanted more than one night in his company.

(and had enough gold to persuade the troupe, and soon he was away from the colorful tents)

But why would new master pay so much for him only to leave him here?

(he was tired of being touched, but was freezing to death better?)

He could guess at intentions. He knew what he'd been bought for, had been expecting it as soon as Master pulled him stumbling into the keep

(but instead of following up the stairs he was taken down down down to where it was always cold)

He can't say how many days have passed. He spends his time huddled under a blanket, shivering. Counting the stones in the walls and the floor and the ceiling. Trying not to think.

76, 77, 78,

(I used to be a prince)

79, 80, 81

(I don't deserve this)

He eats whenever the faceless guard brings in a bowl of stew

(even that is barely lukewarm; he still holds the bowl tightly in his hands, trying to absorb any heat)

And he sleeps when darkness takes hold of the cell. Or, he tries to

(his dreams are hands that hurt and hands that grab. All of them made of ice)

But one morning, the faceless guard comes down the steps not with soup, but with keys. The guard unlocks the cell, and hauls his shaking body to its feet, and leads him up the steps

(his legs give out once, halfway up, but the guard does not kick him. The guard is kind)

When the door at the top of the stairs is unlocked, the warm air that hits him almost makes him cry with joy. There are more stairs, and another door, this one heavy wood with ornate carvings

(he remembers a door to his father's study, one much grander than this)

And the door swings open to reveal a grand bedroom, a roaring fire, a bed with many furs--

"My lord. Shall I run him a bath?"

"No," says a voice from the bed. A figure pushes itself up, stands. "I'll take care of it. Thank you, Lorens."

The door closes behind him and the man steps closer and he can see now that's it's his master.

Master says nothing, only pulls his still-shivering body into him, and it's warm. Blissfully warm. He nuzzles into his master's neck with a small whine as the man scoops him up and carries him toward the bed.

"I thought I'd like you better like this. Did you like the cell, my Fawn?"

He shakes his head against his master's chest. He's stopped shivering at last, his muscles aching from the constant tension.

"It's not pleasant this time of year, hm? Well, not to worry. You can sleep here with me instead, if you ask nicely."

Fawn is too busy drinking in the warmth to hear the first time. He's jarred back to the present when Master throws him onto the bed.

"Can you ask nicely, Fawn?" he says, voice more stern this time.

"Y-yes," he looks up with wide eyes. "May I stay with you?" then adds, "Please?"

(knew this would happen, don't think, just do as you're told)

Master brushes hair out of Fawn's face. "Ask one more time."

Fawn nods. "M-may I please sleep here, with-with you?"

"Of course," Master says. "And if you make me happy, you never have to go back to the cell again, do you understand?"

(don't talk to me like I'm a child, you pompous--)

"I understand," Fawn says, and Master climbs onto the bed, looming over him, hands placed at either side of his head

(just like before just like before you knew this was coming just do what you're told--)

"Good."

And as his hands trace their way down his chest, Fawn counts himself lucky that they're warm.

tag list:

#i felt cold just from writing this #i need more blankets #whump writing #whump story #royal whumpee #captivity whump #slavery tw #slavery whump #environmental whump #cold whump #tw implied noncon #whump #sunandglass

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whumpflash · 2 years

Text

Sun and Glass, part four

previous part

cw: slavery, abuse, implied violence

Rena paced back and forth in Lord Trisk's library. Trisk had been gracious enough to give her time to prepare when he had seen how nervous she was, but even with access to his collection of books, she wasn't sure it would be enough. She stopped for a moment, leaning against the windowsill and cursing herself for the hundredth time.

Riddles. Why had she agreed to riddles? If she'd only taken better control of the conversation, she could've convinced Trisk to play at something else. Or if she'd thought quicker, she could've offered to trade her horse for Caelon. Now she was going to lose them both.

No, don't think like that. You have to try.

Rena sighed, letting her gaze drift out the window. Searching Trisk's library for a suitable riddle would be futile. Even if she could find something, chances were the lord already knew its answer. She'd have to rely on what she already knew, but what did she know other than the little rhymes meant for children?

It doesn't matter how childish they are, she told herself. You made this bet, now you have to try. For Caelon. Or at least for the hollow man Caelon has become.

Maybe... Maybe she could come up with her own riddle? But surely that was out of the question. She had a hard enough time solving them. She rested her forehead against the cool glass of the window in defeat.

The door to the library swung open, and she stood up abruptly. Trisk entered, a newspaper tucked under his arm. He nodded to her with a look on his face that verged on smug. "Any luck, my lady?"

Rena forced a smile. "Who said anything about luck?"

That brought a wry chuckle out of Trisk. He settled in one of the plush armchairs and began reading the paper. Behind him, the door opened once more, far more slowly, and Caelon entered the room, a dusting rag in hand. He glanced at Trisk, almost apologetically, and the lord huffed.

"Don't look at me, get to it."

The man nodded, and set about to dusting the shelves. Rena wondered if it was coincidence that brought them in here, or if Trisk was attempting to intimidate her. Reminding her what was at stake.

She left her spot at the window and sat across from Trisk. He looked up from his paper.

"Having trouble?"

"Taking a break," she replied, picking up an illustrated book on birds and thumbing through it. She wouldn't be able to do much thinking with the two nearby, but she wasn't about to get up and leave just because Trisk was here.

"Found yourself a nice picture book, I see," Trisk said with a smirk, turning the page of his newspaper. "It's a wonder you agreed to the game of riddles at all--"

Without thinking, Rena snapped the book shut. Caelon flinched at the noise, knocking over something---a glass deer, maybe? Rena barely caught a glimpse of it before it hit the ground and shattered.

Trisk was on his feet in a second, his face already turning a shade of red. "You worthless little wretch--"

"My lord!" Rena cried, on her feet just as quick. "Please, leave him be, it was my fault, I startled him--"

He fixed his glare on her for a half second. "He doesn't belong to you yet, Lady Rena. I'll do what I like with him." And with that, he was striding across the room. He grabbed Caelon roughly by the arm, hauled him halfway to his feet--

"Then let's play the game now!" Rena said, frantic. Trisk looked back at her, releasing Caelon. The man fell to the ground and stayed there, head bent low.

"Now?" Trisk said. "But dear lady, didn't you ask for time to prepare?" He was smiling.

"I changed my mind," Rena said, meeting his eyes. "I'm ready."

"If you insist."

Rena felt relief spread though her, a feeling that came to a bitter stop as Trisk left the room, coming back a second later with a guard.

".. you'll take him downstairs and punish him as you see fit."

"Yes, my lord."

Rena grit her teeth. "You can't--"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do in my own house," Trisk said, returning to his place across from her. "Unless you win, that slave is my property." He smiled at her. "I didn't take you for the rash type, Lady Rena. Perhaps I should thank you already for my new horse."

Rena smiled back at him. It felt more like baring her teeth. "Don't thank me just yet." Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was right. By acting now, she may have given up on any chance of winning. And for what? Caelon's still being punished. Maybe worse.

"Then let's begin," Trisk said, folding his hands in front of him. "The rules are simple. First one to stump the other with a riddle wins the bet. I do hope you give me a challenge."

"I understand," Rena said. Behind the lord, the shards of the broken deer sat where they had fallen. She forced her gaze back onto Trisk and cleared her throat. "What… what rises and falls like the tide, and has funny-looking fish all inside?"

The lord snorted. "The kingdoms of Anthara," he said. "Too easy. Did you think I'd forgotten my time in grammar school?"

Rena tried to keep from flushing with embarrassment. That had been her hope, but the little rhyme that schoolchildren were taught when they learned the history of the realm was too common to forget.

"I'm starting them easy," she offered. "To warm up."

Trisk shook his head. "If you say so. Now… My hands have no fingers, my face gives no greeting, but still I will tell you when you're late for a meeting."

Rena said nothing for a moment, turning over the words in her head. She'd never been good at riddles, the double meanings always threw her off. Still, she had to try. "A… it's a clock, isn't it?"

Trisk grinned. "Well done. I would've been disappointed if you'd been stumped at the first round."

Rena tapped a finger on the table. "Alright… I have a club that doesn't swing, I have a heart that doesn't beat, I have a diamond that doesn't shine, and if you cut me, I won't bleed."

"That would be a deck of cards," Lord Trisk said almost immediately. "You do favor the children's riddles, don't you?"

This time, Rena did flush. "I suppose I do."

"My turn," Trisk said. "Eye of the goddess, bring the world light, guiding the tide and the sea. Guarding the woods in the dead of the night, and blinking too slowly to see."

Rena frowned. "Would you… can you say that again?"

Trisk smirked, repeating the riddle more slowly. Rena murmured the last line under her breath. She knew of many goddesses who were hailed as guardians, but there had to be hundreds of them. And the blinking? Were there any temple statues she'd heard of that blinked?

"I'll give you one more minute," said Trisk.

She was going about this all wrong. There was always a double meaning in riddles, she just had to figure out what part. Was the answer the stars, perhaps? The sun? No, the sun wasn't out at night, and what about the tide..?

"Five seconds--"

"The moon!" Rena blurted out. "It's the moon. It… it pulls the tides, and 'blinks' with its phases."

Trisk gave her a nod of approval. "I almost had you there."

"Almost," Rena said, taking a deep breath in an attempt to slow down her heartbeat. That had been too close. She had to find a way to stump him, and the riddles she knew weren't going to do the trick.

She glanced around the room, looking for something, anything, she could use.

"Okay," she said. "My turn.

"Broken pieces, all divided. With... with all the color trapped inside it; it beholds faithful voices... bright, and paints the floor with holy light."

"Hm…" Trisk said. "You said 'broken pieces'?"

Rena nodded, holding her breath.

"Broken pieces… all divided… I haven't heard this one before."

No, I bet you haven't.

"You said you wanted a challenge," Rena said.

"That I did." He said nothing for a long moment, then-- "It's an eye. An iris looks like broken pieces, and 'beholds' the things around it."

Rena felt a smile spreading across her face, wide and unstoppable. "No."

"No?" Trisk said.

"You're wrong," Rena said, standing up from the table. "I win."

"You… But you… Well, what was the answer then?" Trisk said, stumbling over his words.

"A window," Rena said with a grin. "A stained glass window."

next part

taglist:

@fleur-des-lore , @fandomseksta , @whumpwillow , @and-then-there-was-whump , @pumpkin-spice-whump , @suspicious-pools-of-blood , @melodyvonmelody

#this felt more like a noontime post than an evening post #slavery tw #violence tw #slave whump #royalty whump #royal whumpee #reluctant caretaker #whump #whump story #riddles #i love me some riddles #sunandglass

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whumpflash · 2 years

Text

Sun and Glass, part two

continued from this piece

cw: slavery, dehumanization, abuse, starvation

Rena picked at her breakfast, halfheartedly cutting into a piece of fried bread. Dinner the night before had been a hearty meal of roasted fowl and vegetables, but witnessing the fate of her childhood bully hadn't left her with much of an appetite. To make matters worse, they'd barely scratched the surface of the business deal between Trisk and Adelard. The former proved to be easily distracted and prone to lengthy tangents. This was going to be a long week.

Caelon moved to her side, refilling her coffee with shaking hands. He seemed paler than he'd been the day before, and the half-circles under his eyes had darkened.

"Doesn't he get enough sleep?" she asked, directing the question at Lord Trisk.

"Why?" he replied. "He didn't spill your drink, did he? Worthless--"

"No," Rena cut him off quickly as Caleon took a hasty step away from the table. "It was just a question."

"Hm." Trisk scratched his chin. "I would think he gets enough. He's still standing, isn't he?"

Barely.

"Of course," the lord continued, "last night was an exception. He had to learn his lesson about being careless with others' things."

Rena swallowed, glancing back at Caleon from the corner of her eye. She hadn't noticed it before, but she hadn't been looking. Bruising on his wrists, barely visible beneath the sleeves of his tunic. Another bruise mostly concealed by his hair. The edge of a welt on his collarbone.

"What did you do to him?" she asked, trying to make it sound like curiosity rather than an accusation.

"Nothing you need to trouble yourself with, my lady," Trisk said.

"Do you… aren't you worried about his health?"

"Whatever for? If he drops dead I'll just buy another."

Rena put her fork down, pursing her lips together tightly. "And… what if he doesn't? What if he only becomes ill, or too hurt to work? Isn't it better to prevent--"

"My lady," Trisk interrupted, his voice patient, as if explaining something to a child. "If you break a window, do you bother pasting it back together? Do you put the cracked pieces back in the pane?" he shook his head. "No. You throw the shards away and send for a replacement."

A person is not a window, Rena thought, but kept her mouth shut. That wasn't the way to get through to Trisk. He seemed to be set in his ideas.

"Aren't there laws about maltreatment?" she asked carefully.

"What are you trying to say?" Trisk put down his own fork. "The mistreatment of a slave is only his master's business. Do you think I'd be arrested if I ran around my own castle, breaking all the windows?"

"No, you'd be thought a madman," Rena said icily, but Trisk only laughed.

"Precisely! You understand then. Anything done to my own property by me is within my rights."

Rena nodded, picking up her coffee and taking a sip. Maybe diplomacy wasn't for her after all. The end of the week couldn't come soon enough. Caleon moved to refill Trisk's cup, and she felt a pang of guilt.

Sure, she had the privilege of looking away, but this was his life. Closing her eyes didn't prevent injustice, it only served to shield her from it.

She cleared her throat. "What matters of business shall we attend to today?"

"None 'til tonight," Lord Trisk said, pushing himself up from the table. "I have my own matters to attend to. But by all means, go explore the town. Porta is beautiful this time of year. Or, if you'd rather, stay here and relax. What's mine is yours."

"I thank you, my lord," she said, the words feeling flat. Caleon began stacking Trisk's discarded dishes as the lord left the hall.

"Cae-- Six," Rena said, as soon as the sound of Trisk's footsteps had faded. The man froze in place, as seemed to be his habit.

"My lady?" he said softly. His voice was hoarse.

Rena looked down. She hadn't thought of what to say to him. "Have you eaten?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I… my master said-- No. I don't deserve it. He-- I will eat when I can go a day without-- without making a mistake. However… however long it takes."

"And how long has that been?" Rena asked, keeping her voice as gentle as she could despite the anger growing within her.

"I… I don't… two days? No, three-- I don't know, my lady, I don't know things, I'm sorry--"

"You're alright," Rena said. "You haven't done anything wrong."

He didn't respond, only stood motionless. Waiting to be dismissed, she realized.

"Come here," she said, watching as he obeyed. "Do you want something to eat?" She pushed her plate towards him. It had barely been touched; fruit, cheese, and fried bread all piled high.

"I… I thank you, my lady, for your g-generosity, but I can't--"

"Eat," Rena said. "That's an order."

Still standing, Caelon picked up a slice of fruit, stiffly bringing it to his mouth.

"Go on," Rena said softly.

"Please, my lady, my-- my master, he will-- he'll punish--"

"I won't speak a word of it to him," Rena said. "This isn't a trick. You need to eat something."

After a moment of hesitation, Calon put the fruit in his mouth. Rena watched as he chewed, swallowed it, and reached for more.

What had they done to him to make him like this?

She sat in silence, watching the door until the plate was clean. Caleon immediately added it to the stack of dishes, piling her empty coffee cup on top.

"Thank you, my lady," he murmured.

"Of course," she said, then remembered, "And you may go."

She felt a little better now, but it was small solace. After all, Trisk had made it clear that he could care less if the man lived or died. As long as Caelon was here, he was doomed to a miserable existence. But what could she do about it? Buy him? She didn't have that kind of money on her, and besides, the thought of supporting the slave trade in any way was not a pleasant one. Steal him away? Oh, that was a brilliant plan. First time doing anything even remotely diplomatic and she robs her host. There had to be some way…

A decorated chess set in the corner of the room caught her eye, and Rena smiled. She may not exactly have a plan, but at least she had an idea.

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@fleur-des-lore @fandomseksta @whumpwillow

#whump #reluctant caretaker #royal whump #royal whumpee #slavery tw #slave whump #tw abuse #sunandglass

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whumpflash · 2 years

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Sun and Glass, part six

previous part

cw: slavery, dehumanization, conditioning

They finished the deal the next morning. Details were a tad crude--neither of them were in the mood to drag things out--but the requirements were met. Caelon spent the duration of the meeting sleeping in Rena's room.

Despite having planned to stay the week and sightsee, Rena elected to cut her trip to Porta short. Whatever she was going to do about Caleon, she'd prefer to do it far away from Lord Trisk.

Not an hour after the required documents had been signed, Rena was standing in front of her carriage, ready to leave. Caelon sat straight-backed inside, silent and unmoving as ever. He had no belongings to carry with him. She'd have to fix that later.

As much as Rena wanted to just get on the road, final farewells were customary, and she'd already bent enough rules for one journey.

She shook Trisk's hand, thanking him as cordially as she could manage for his hospitality. He responded with the expected pleasantries… and handed her a small wooden box.

"Since you have such a fondness for my broken things," he said.

Rena tried to hide her puzzlement as she lifted the lid. Inside was the shattered deer, its fragments nestled atop a folded piece of linen.

"I hope you enjoy the time you take attempting to paste it back together. Safe travels, Lady Rena."

Home was three days away by carriage, but the trip felt much longer than that. En route to Porta, Rena had been able to read, take notes, compose letters, and sketch some of the scenery outside her window. Now that Caelon was her guest, it felt… well, it felt rude to ignore him in favor of her own comfort. She was going to have to talk to him sooner or later, to try and get him to trust her. Might as well do it on a three day carriage ride.

She cleared her throat. "So…" Where to even begin? "What would you like me to call you?"

His head remained bowed, but after a moment, he answered,

"You may call me whatever pleases you, Mistress."

Rena sighed. She really shouldn't be surprised at that one. "Isn't there a name you like?"

"I… I accept whatever name you choose for me."

Okay, maybe a different approach? "I'm not going to choose your name," she said.

"As it pleases you. I have been nameless before."

Rena frowned. If making him realize he could choose his own name was this difficult, how hard was the road ahead? "That's not what I meant," she said, then continued carefully. "It would… please me if you chose your own name. A name that you liked."

He lifted his head a little at that, eyes peeking out through a curtain of blond hair. "I… I don't know, I--"

She realized he was searching her face again, trying to figure out what the right answer was. His eyes dropped back to the floor.

"I-I will take no name then." A quick, darting glance up, looking for her reaction.

"If you have no name, what am I to call you if I want to get your attention?" she pressed.

"Slave." His answer came out matter-of-fact, like he didn't even consider another option.

Rena leaned back in her seat. How could a person become so… broken? If only she'd known the extent of the damage, she could've--

Could've what? Left him behind? Abandoned him to Trisk's violent whims? No, one way or another, Caelon would've been coming back with her. But if she'd known, maybe she'd be a little better prepared for what she was getting herself into.

She glanced across the carriage. His head was bowed again, perhaps he'd taken her silence for approval.

"I'm not going to call you 'slave'," she said. "And you don't deserve to be nameless."

"F-forgive me, Mistress, I didn't realize you would be displeased--"

"No, it isn't that," she said, keeping her voice very even. "You've done nothing wrong, alright?"

He gave a small nod, and she continued.

"How do you feel about the name 'Caelon'? Do you like it?" She knew it was a stupid question.

"Do… do you like it, Mistress?"

She forced a smile. "I do like it, but it's your choice if you'd like to take it as your name or not."

"I-If my Mistress likes it, it will be my name," he said carefully.

She sighed. She couldn't exactly call this progress, but with any luck, he'd get used to making his own choices over time. All she had to do was give him constant opportunities.

"And one more thing," she said. "Don't call me Mistress. Call me Rena."

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#and thus the very difficult healing process can begin #good luck rena #sunandglass #reluctant caretaker #royalty whump #royal whumpee #short chapter but im getting back into it #slavery whump #slavery tw #conditioning tw #comfort #sorta #she's trying

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whumpflash · 2 years

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Sun and Glass, part three

previous part

cw: slavery, dehumanization, abuse, sexual implications (brief mention), mentioned whump of a minor

That evening's dinner was much the same as the last; make a little progress with the deal, only to have Trisk become distracted and tell her a story about this or that. By the time the main course was being brought out, Rena had given up on paying attention. Her mind was elsewhere.

"Do you know of the Drondars?" Rena asked, as Trisk finished his third tale of the night. "The royal family of Anguire?" Her gaze drifted to Caleon, who was standing at the other end of the table with a flagon of wine, still as a statue. "They had a son."

"Drondars? Hm." Trisk took a sip from his goblet. "Rings a bell… Why do you ask?"

"My family used to live in Anguire," she said casually. "Years ago, and I'm afraid we've fallen out of touch."

Trisk nodded. "Ah, I think I remember now. Weren't those the royals who were killed by bandits on the way to a wedding?"

"Did that happen?" Rena said, her gut twisting. "I wasn't aware."

"Yes, that was them," Trisk said thoughtfully. "What was it, nine or ten years ago? You would've been young, but I'm surprised you hadn't heard."

Maybe she had. Maybe she'd heard in passing that Caleon Drondar was murdered by bandits and she'd thought, good.

Only he wasn't. He'd been taken captive and made a slave and beaten until he forgot his own name. He would've still been a child, seventeen at most. He must've been terrified.

She steadied herself with a sip of wine. "Quite a tragedy," she said evenly. "And what of their kingdom?"

"Anguire was conquered by Hilldow not long after. Such is the fate of smaller kingdoms who lose their leadership, I'm afraid."

Rena cursed silently. There went the smoother plan, of revealing Caelon's identity to Trisk in the hopes he'd be returned home. She swirled the wine in her cup. Time for plan B.

She waited until the main course was being cleared and Caelon was out of the room. It seemed only polite.

"Would you ever consider selling Six?" Rena asked, once he'd vanished into the kitchen.

"Hm? Oh, you mean… what was I going to call him? Sunny."

"Sunny," Rena nodded.

Trisk laughed. "I suppose, if I could ever find someone who'd bother to pay for him. Why do you ask?"

Rena found herself staring at the table. "Ah, well, you see--"

"Lady Rena!" Trisk said through a wide smile. "Taken a fancy to him, have you? I suppose he does have a pretty face. I thought your people didn't keep slaves though? Oh, what a scandal this would cause--"

"My lord," Rena said. "I don't think you--"

"No need to be bashful, now. Bedslaves aren't uncommon, and I'm not surprised an adventurous young lady like yourself should want one. Of course I'll sell him to you."

"Lord Trisk," Rena said. "I never said anything about buying him."

Trisk paused. "Well I'm not going to give him to you," he said. "Just because I say he's worthless doesn't mean he actually is."

"I wouldn't ask that of you, my lord. I was thinking of something a little more exciting."

Lord Trisk raised an eyebrow. "Exciting, eh?"

Rena smiled. "I noticed a chess set in the dining hall. Do you play?"

"Chess? Not too well, I'm afraid."

"Not just chess, any game. Surely you'd accept a friendly wager."

Trisk rubbed his chin. "And what would we be wagering? My slave against your..?"

Rena bit her lip. "My carriage." It was the only thing she'd brought that Trisk might take her up on.

He chuckled. "Your carriage? He's not worth that much, and I'm not about to swindle a young lady. I'd settle for your horse."

Rena frowned. "And how am I to get back home if I should lose?"

"I'll have an escort ride with you and claim my prize once you're safely returned."

She nodded. "Alright. My horse against your… Sunny. Now for the game--"

"Ah, my dear. You proposed the challenge. I get to choose the game." He tapped his nose. "Can't let you get away too easily."

Rena took a breath and nodded again. "Very well."

"Excellent." Trisk held out his hand for her to shake. "Your horse against my slave… In a battle of riddles."

Rena swallowed, already trying--and failing--to think of a riddle that wasn't made for children. She hesitated for all of a second, then shook his hand.

"I accept."

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@fleur-des-lore , @fandomseksta , @whumpwillow , @and-then-there-was-whump , @pumpkin-spice-whump , @suspicious-pools-of-blood

#i went back to change the timeline/age because im planning on doing some oneshots #whump #whump writing #royal whump #royalty whump #slavery tw #slave whump #reluctant caretaker #whump of a minor mention #sunandglass

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whumpflash · 2 years

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The Troupe

(a prequel to Sun and Glass)

cw: slavery, abuse, brief mentioned whump of a minor, implied noncon (not explicit), mild disassociation, death mention

He can't keep track of the days anymore, or even the months. There is only when he sleeps and when he wakes, when he eats and when he doesn't. And when it's cold…

He shivers a little at the thought. The leaves have started to fall, and the temperature with them.

Last time it was cold, cold for days and days and days, all he could think about was how to try and get warm again, how to survive. Warmth of any kind is hard to come by, but the people who've bought him---his new masters, they don't seem as cruel as the bandits who'd had him first.

And how long has it been since they'd first taken him? A year? Two? It's hard to remember when it isn't something he likes remembering

(They'd pulled him away from his parents' corpses. His mother was killed when they'd run the carriage off the road, his father by an arrow)

And it doesn't matter anyway. He's stuck with them, and his best chance at avoiding misery is not thinking and just doing what he's told

(He'd thought the bandits would kill him. They didn't. They laughed when he told them he was seventeen, and said something about a long-term deposit)

And it doesn't matter what it is he's told, because doing anything else only brings pain, a lesson he's learned dozens of times by now.

His new masters are bright and cheerful. They travel in a large group, with a big wagon pulled by a pair of mules that holds an assortment of props and costumes

(He has a distant memory of watching a troupe of actors as a child, some colorful show that made him laugh--)

He hasn't been with them for long, and hasn't been asked to do much and that scares him. How can he do what he's told if he isn't told anything?

The bandits had called him 'boy', nothing more

(My name is Caelon--)

And now, the new masters call him nothing, nothing yet, though he's heard them speak of him, calling him 'the young prince'

(Caelon, prince Caelon)

The bandits had done the same when they'd sold him; cleaned him up and paraded him around the market, calling him princeling until a curious buyer asked the price.

And brought him to the rest of the troupe.

The first time they pull a show on the edge of town, the first time they pull him onstage afterwards and auction off a night with the princeling, his heart is in his throat and it's all he can do to keep standing

(And it's a richly dressed man with the winning bid, who leads him to a canopy in the back. And he follows along, numb to the wandering hands that shouldn't be there, numb the next morning)

But he does what he's told. It's all he can do.

He learns quickly that his purpose within the troupe is to entertain the patrons who stay later

(Push down discomfort and pretend he wants to be there, pretend he wants them)

And if at least one guest doesn't stay late enough, there will be no meal waiting for him the next morning.

His new masters don't hit him often though, and isn't that a good thing?

(Then why is this so much worse?)

Before too long, he's fallen back into rhythm, and the days become nothing more than an endless pattern. There is only when they travel and when they stop, when he eats and when he can't.

When he sleeps and when he doesn't.

#kind of a disjointed writing style #planning on more of these bits from Caelon's pov #sunandglass #caelon #whump #royal whump #royal whumpee #slavery tw #slavery whump #abuse tw #tw implied noncon #death mention

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