...that no longer wears the crown... Hi, I'm Joey, 19, he/she/they. Novice NSFW writer, currently working on Crowns and Collars, a royal whump story. If you've found this tiny corner of the internet, thanks for stopping by! Hope you have a wonderful day!
Content will include nsfw, noncon and generally fucky behaviour as this is a long-term captivity whump.
Crowns For Collars:
Prince Henley (whumpee) makes the ultimate sacrifice to protect his family and his kingdom from General Jace (whumper), who has overthrown his country.
I'll try to keep updating it as I add more and more! Not sure how long this fic will be, as I am rolling with life's punches currently, but I will update as frequently as I can, in between uni and work.
Lastly, thank you for anyone who is even seeing this. It means alot to me when even one person views this, or likes, or comments, or reblogs. Trust me, I am literally giggling and kicking my feet any time someone derives any kind of enjoyment from my work.
So I hope you lovely people have a fabulous day, and may you find all the best whump fics in your travels.
This is important to reblog for yourself too, not just for others to see it. You never know when something could come up and if you need help it’s right there on your blog
Whumpee was once a very outgoing, talkative, friendly person.
Now, they're anxious and quiet, and people who used to see Whumpee always happy, always at ease, people who loved him for that, can't stand being around this new version of him.
Quiet. Stressed out. Broken.
One day, Whumpee feels down and realizes there's really no person left to call.
Thinking about stoic whumpees who are coupled with vocal whumpees and just cannot cope with the amount of complaining and whining and moping.
Stoic whumpee who puts everything in a box in the back of their head and just Keeps Going- vocal whumpee who describes everything in intimate detail, refusing to move on from what has happened, and thereby making everything worse for them, and SW.
Vocal whumpee who cries every time they are put back in their cell, and constantly threatens to kill themselves to whumper, who just laughs as Stoic whumpee tips their head back and closes their eyes.
Stoic whumpee who just silently envisions the day they'll see their person and get to fall apart with them compared to Vocal whumpee who complains every day, but wishes that they got more sympathy than they already have.
Stoic whumpee who ends up caretaking for Vocal whumpee until the day that they finally crack- and even then, there is no explosion, just a soft,
You ever read something that someone recommends to you because they tell you it's really whumpy and you get super excited about it? But then you read it and it's super disappointing because the whump isn't even shown, it's just implied?
And then you remember that normal people have a lower tolerance for whump than you do so something like that is probably super whumpy for them?
Just thinking about a whumpee repeating, “No, no! I’m okay! Don’t worry! See? I’m okay!” Over and over, almost pleading. They’re saying it more for themselves than anything, praying that they’re actually okay. In denial that anything is wrong.
Like, the whumpee thinks that maybe, if they act like it was okay- then it was. It's their choice, right?
If they want to say that it wasn't a big deal, and they're okay, then who is going to stop them?
I mean, whole ass teenagers do this every day; it's not like whumpee even has any bruises or cuts to prove that they even went through anything anyway.
Who can tell them that they are wrong, they weren't in the room? So what if whumpee still feels hands on their skin, eyes on their eyes, teeth biting into their lip?
My God, it has been a while. So I literally had the majority of this chapter done for the past.... ehhhhhh... maybe 2 months? But I have just not been able to finish the last, like 1/4 of it. So apologies if this comes across a bit disjointed, but i just needed to push through and post it so we can move on to bigger and ... better?... things.
I hope you enjoy, sorry that it is a bit of a filler, but I'm enjoying the guilt and anticipation too much rn!
Chapter 6- Consolidations
The gag pulled at the corners of Henley's mouth as he was manhandled across the pavilion to stand in front of the steps where the enemy's army, and the confused city-dwellers, stood awaiting the General's announcements.
He registered it dully, in the same way he felt only vaguely the pull of his shoulders where they were twisted and tied behind his back, and the harsh grip of the soldiers who forcibly moved him.
What really hurt was the look that had been in his best friend's eyes.
Ezra was looking at him with a horrified mix of pity and anger. The inner turmoil glinting from his irises was a mirror image of Henley's own, and it bit at him that he couldn't soothe the other man, couldn't distract him, couldn't strategise it away.
His arms hung limply at his sides, and he stared at the proceedings like he was watching a tragedy play out.
Henley had to admit that that was fairly accurate.
By the time, they finished marching the prince to the pavilion to stand behind the General, just off his left shoulder, Henley was struggling to keep tears from welling in his eyes.
The General did not even deign to watch him being dragged to his spot, and began to speak in a loud, commanding voice to the people gathered. Henley could understand now why all his troops followed him so strictly.
"People of Kelaoth, and those faithful to me, I would like to introduce myself, though I have no doubt you know me. I am General Jace, of Kelaoth myself, and the new Ruler of this glorious city. Though I am sure this will be a tremendous change, I am sure that we can rebuild this kingdom in a greater light, and defend the virtues of Loyalty, Resilience and Justice."
Though Henley kept his eyes on the sky behind the crowd, he could hear the quiet murmurings of the disquieted crowd, and found warmth blooming in his chest from the obvious distaste that they held for this man.
"I am sure that the years of this petty fighting have been difficult for many of you. I know many of you have lost loved ones to the ridiculous offense that this Royal family-"
At this, he gestured dramatically, in a flourish encompassing Henley and his parents.
"-have insisted upon, in order to keep the comforts of their gilded halls, and glamorous life.
I am not like them. I did not grow up with everything I ever wanted brought to me at a moment's notice. My parents were humble traders, and when they fell upon hard times, they dared to steal just enough food to feed their starved son."
Henley snarled quietly, nose wrinkling at the false story that the General wove in order to captivate the people.
"My parents were caught, and executed without fair trial, at these people's command. That could have been any one of your parents, or your children, or your friends. What I did in the name of this revolution may not have been pretty, but it was all for the betterment of the kingdom that I love. Now here I am, willing to give myself to the service of running it."
General Jace turned, fisting his hand into Henley's shirt and dragging him forward, gazing at him gleefully as he spoke to the crowd.
"Now, dear Prince Aisling here made some deals with me, because the guilt of his family's misdeeds was consuming him, and he knew that he needed to accept the penance for his actions."
Henley glared furiously.
"So, our lovely traitor has offered to take on the blame for his entire family's wrongdoings. And I, as a gracious man, have accepted. So, merciful as I am, there will be no executions on this glorious day.
Enough blood has been spilled.
The Royal Family of Kelaoth, the Rowans, are hereby banished from this Kingdom, never to return or they shall forfeit their heads."
General Jace kept his eyes firmly on Henley's as he pronounced this sentence, feasting on the turmoil inside the bound prince. Gasps erupted across the square, and Henley felt more than heard the stoic silence behind him.
"All High Families are to pledge their allegiance to me, or follow the previous rulers in their banishment. Not a finger will be raised to stop them- I encourage all to make their own decisions. But think carefully. I hold no ill bidding to you, I wish for us all to thrive."
The General released the Prince roughly, and he stumbled back into the arms of the guards. General Jace turned to the crowd again, opening his arms wide, palms up, and smiling broadly.
"I invite you all to make your choice. I stand at your service, with an ear to your concerns."
It took less than a minute for the leaders of the high families to pledge themselves.
***
The General strode into the grand Throne Room of Kelaoth Palace with the air of someone who had belonged there since birth. It made Henley feel sick.
The prince was pushed along behind him, with his own parents escorted behind him, and the rest of the high families trailing after. The silence was deafening.
General Jace strode up the steps, and ran a hand over the arm of the throne before settling himself in it. The imposing form that he exemplified was enough to make Henley shudder as he watched the man observe his new subjects from its comfort.
Henley had never liked the thing.
Overly ornate, gilded with swirling shapes and plush red velvet cushions that screamed "rich" in every meaning of the word. It shone in the glow of the late morning sun that had broken through the clouds outside and streamed through the large, open doors.
Jace's dark skin gleamed atop it, offering a stark contrast to the bright colour, and painting him in a regal, commanding light.
The man clicked his fingers and gestured to the floor beside him.
The prince was dragged up the stairs and shoved to his knees, each guard pushing heavily onto his shoulders until they cracked into the floor. Henley fought to suppress a wince at the pain that shot up his legs as he felt the General's eyes weighing on him heavily.
Taking rapid breaths through his nose, Henley lifted his chin high, raising his eyes to look at his family, unwilling to let them see how broken he felt already.
He thought he heard a chuckle from the General, but ignored it and looked out to the High Families, and his own parents.
They were staring at him with something that resembled horror, but what hurt Henley the most was the…
Well.
They'd never looked more disappointed in him.
Not when he had cost dozens of men their lives in strategic fuckups. Not when he had lost another village. Not when he had recalled the troops. No, Henley had never seen them this displeased with him, and despite the situation, he felt a spark of irritation flare in his chest at how unfair their reaction was.
What had they done to help save the people of this country? What had they sacrificed for the cause? Had they not lived out enough of a life of wealth and glamour to accept a more menial retirement? Could they not feel one pinch of pity for their son, who was losing the rest of his life to a mad dictator?
Henley turned his eyes away, skimming them over the High Families and noting how even they had concern painted across their expressions, for the young crown prince who was losing everything. For them, it was a mere transition of power: a new mind to learn and grovel at the feet of. But it didn't prevent them from seeing him as he was, as he never would be again- the powerful, talented commander of a great army.
Henley knew he would receive nothing but sympathy from them, and though a kind smile can work wonders, it can't stitch the wounds that Henley expected to own by the end of the day.
As the prince finished scanning the crowd, his eyes snapped to the floor before they caught his.
Henley had known that would hurt the most.
And the way Ezra's eyes were pinned to him in fear and desperation was too much for the young prince.
He turned his gaze down, to the swirling tiles, studying them as he tried to take a deep breath. Slowly, he realised that he was hyperventilating, his vision fading in and out as he struggled to stay in his elevated position on his knees. The way his arms were pulled tight behind his back didn't help this, as he fought to take a calming, slow breath.
The ground was spinning before his eyes,and he blinked rapidly, feeling nauseous from the effect it was having on him.
The General began talking as Henley was still opposing the onslaught of this breathing difficulty, and the words didn't register in the prince's mind as anything other than a commanding babble of incoherent sounds.
Henley's breaths shuddered through his chest, and he closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head.
This was pathetic, the General wasn't even looking at him and he was throwing a dramatic performance. How could he expect to survive the punishments he would have to endure for himself and his family's response to the General's brutality if he couldn't even handle being knelt by his throne?
Though the world kept spinning and that commanding voice continued to ring out through the throne room, Henley was not present for any of it, registering the spoken words as nothing more than an irritating drone in the back of his head. He felt the weight of so many gazes on him, and yet he found anguish in only one.
He was still fighting not to look back up into those dark eyes, to see the pain and betrayal swirling through them. He couldn't handle that. He only hoped that the General would follow through on the banishment of Henley's family as soon as he-
Henley's mind came up short. His breath stuttered, after having just got it back under control.
His deal had not included Ezra's banishment.
His eyes slid shut.
He never wanted Ezra to see this.
***
It felt like an eternity before Henley came back into his own body again, to the sounds of shuffling feet and clinking armour.
He glanced up to see General Jace's guards herding his family towards the exit, and his eyes lingered on his parents, still desperately clutching their crowns like babies with a comfort blanket. Henley hoped it brought them comfort. It would no longer bring anything but hell to him.
The prince felt a shift in the air beside him and glanced sideways towards his captor to see him leaning over him, smirking.
"No final words, Princeling?"
The words were loud enough for the court to hear, and Henley watched the guards guffaw at the joke.
Biting down hard on the gag in his mouth, Henley grit his teeth at the suggestion and glared at General Jace with venom in his eyes.
"You're missing them…" The man mocked, and Henley's eyes flitted over to where his parents had now reached the grand doors of the throne room.
His brows furrowed- they may not have been the best parents, but they were his.
Just as the doors began to swing closed behind the party, Henley caught a split second glimpse of his mother's face, just as her eyes managed to snag on his own.
Henley had never seen his mother emotional.
And he would never be able to confirm what emotions were in her eyes, but love was there in abundance, for the first time since Henley was deemed old enough to wield a sword, and began to disappoint them.
But there was something stronger there.
Something Henley had never seen in his mother's eyes.
Can we talk about whumper licking whumpee’s face and throat? Instead of kissing or biting at whumpee’s skin, whumper prefers to lick them. To taste the tears and sweat clinging onto their face. Licking across whumpee’s cheeks, licking up their throat, licking into their mouth?
Whumpee feeling the warmth of whumper’s tongue trailing over their skin, the wetness of it, and it somehow feels more degrading and violating than being kissed.
Whumpee who didn’t escape. Who wasn’t heroically rescued. No, that’s not what I want. (Silly whump incoming) I want…
Whumpee who was let go as if getting tortured were a job. “We are so sorry to inform you, however you have not been performing as it is expected of you, so we have sadly come to the decision to let you go.”
Whumpee who was just abandoned at the site of the road. They have no idea where they are and maybe they have been so conditioned they don’t even know who or what they are without Whumper telling them.
Whumper one day just going “Okay! I’m satisfied! You may leave now.” while holding the front door open that has been locked the entire time as if they hadn’t kidnapped Whumpee, brought them to the other side of the country he tortured them for who knows how long.
And then give me this and Whumpee being like “Oh, hell no, you don’t!” and coming back to Whumper to demand explanations and be like “You ain’t letting me go!! Imma leave at my own accord here!!
Or, on a way more serious note, Whumpee forever wondering when Whumper will come for them again. Because they didn’t escape. They weren’t rescued. Whumper let them go, and Whumpee knows they can take them back in an instant.
Favoured Whumpee clinging to Caretaker Whumpee when Whumper comes into the room, desperately digging their fingers into their shoulders and hiding their face in the crook of their neck.
Caretaker Whumpee hushing them and trying to calm their own breathing, prompting favoured Whumpee to follow them.
All the while staring straight into Whumper's eyes as they lean against the door, as the cruel person waits for what they know will come- what they had set up to be so.
And grinning triumphantly when Caretaker Whumpee mouths a plea to them behind Favoured Whumpee's head.
"After they're asleep... take me instead."
A quirked eyebrow, a mock bow and a wink, and the Whumper left the room to prepare.
Okay, so I have mildly broken the curse of starting Uni again, but like... good lord, I have been struggling to write any longer than a depressed poem. But I have done something! It is quite terrible! I am about to go on placement, so I may be MIA for a bit again.
My apologies to anyone who is actually sweet enough to support my writing and get engaged with the story, because I am gonna be horrendous at updates for a while!
The air was crisp and the sky an overcast grey as Henley stepped out into the pavilion at the front of the palace. An entourage of the high families followed him as he assumed his position as General Henley, rather than Prince Henley.
His mother and father trailed off his left shoulder, whilst Ezra walked on his right; his back was ramrod straight as he stared across the flat expanse towards the enemy.
General Jace stood, imposing, dressed in a stark black against the crimson red of his army that flooded the streets behind his back. True to his word, it seemed that no inhabitants were harmed, as they stood at the sides of the streets, merely anxious and confused.
Henley breathed a small sigh of relief at that.
The aggressive bloody streak that ran through the street was only that of the uniforms of the evil that he had been forced to allow to penetrate his kingdom. And he knew his father would disagree with his opinion, but the Prince thought that it was worth it. The city could survive being stabbed through the heart, but his people could not.
Drawing in a last deep breath as he stopped a few metres away from the General, Henley made the mistake of meeting the man's eyes.
They were laughing.
Glinting in amusement, they tracked down Henley's fatigued frame, clocking it despite the harsh grip he had on his own posture. Henley watched them map the dark circles under his eyes, the controlled way he was breathing and struggle he had to keep eye contact.
Slowly, the General's mouth drew up into a smirk before he spoke.
"So we meet again, little prince!" he exclaimed, mockingly bowing to the Prince, where he stood, tense.
In the silence that followed, Henley watched the enjoyment flicker through the General's face.
"Come now, that's not a very polite welcome!" he laughed, "Perhaps I need to teach you some manners, princeling mine?"
Henley stiffened as whispers ran around the court gathered behind him, and the crowds gathered in the streets. He noted plenty of the scarlet clad soldiers sniggering as they eyed his discomfort with hungry gazes.
Clenching his jaw in frustration before he spoke again, Henley cleared his throat and calmed his nerves.
"Do our terms still stand, General Jace, or are you a man who betrays his word?" Henley's voice cut clear across the courtyard, free of tremors, though he felt sure that he was vibrating.
The General chuckled and stepped forward a pace.
"O ye of little faith," he showed his teeth in a manic smile, "I never break my word. Do you?"
The Prince swallowed at the intensity of the General's focus and willed himself to step forward. Just as he had convinced himself to take the step, and began forcing his body into the momentum to move forward, he felt himself dragged back.
Whipping his head round with a frown, Henley was met with a desperate gaze.
Ezra stood, hand clutching Henley's elbow with a firm, yet gentle grip as he shook his head, chest heaving.
Henley looked down, unable to keep eye contact with his soldier, his right hand man, his best friend.
"I have to-"
"No, you don't!" The words rang sharp through the air, echoing off every sharpened spear in the surroundings. Every spear that was aching to drip with blood.
Lifting his head to deliver the glancing blow that Henley had never wanted to make to the closest person he had ever had, Henley took one last gaze into Sir Ezra Chaudhri's honey brown eyes.
"I am a man of my word."
Breaking free from the desperate grip and ignoring the broken look on Ezra's face, Henley stepped forward and closed the distance between himself and the enemy. The court stood in shocked silence behind him.
Upon reaching the General, he looked him in the eye and waited for the sadistic glint in his eye to resolve into something verbal.
However, all that Henley received was an unspoken command, as General Jace looked from Henley's eyes, to the ground, before raking their way back up his body again.
Steeling himself, Henley did the one thing that every Prince is trained not to do, for anyone but their King.
And he knelt. Slowly, steadily, with only the slightest wobble from anxious legs as his knees ground into the stone paved slabs. His head lowered, partly in a show of deference, and partly to hide the burning of his face as he felt his cheeks colour as strongly as the guards' uniforms.
A wave of gasps filled the pavilion as they witnessed his humiliation and surrender. He felt the eyes of the high court burn into him with disgust, whilst the eyes of his people clung to him in confusion.
He closed his eyes against the stinging that was burning behind them.
Hearing a low chuckle above him, the Prince narrowly avoided flinching as a hand crept under his chin and lifted his face to the light; Henley felt as though he were under a microscope- some long-dead artefact fascinating those left alive.
His eyes fluttered as they found General Jace's face against the brightness of the clouds overhead, struggling to stay open.
His stomach dropped when the enemy spoke again.
"Oh, you really are pretty like this, aren't you?" he murmured, soft enough that only Henley heard.
With a sharp intake of breath, Henley moved to look away from the General in shame-
and met an open hand as it cracked against his cheek, swinging his head to the other side.
Heaving breaths out, Henley maintained his position, head turned to the side it had been slapped to, as he tried to regain his composure. Chest tightening, he forced himself to keep down the pathetic sounds that his cowardly body was threatening to force him to make.
"See?" General Jace cooed, watching Henley calm himself, "You look even prettier now."
Prince Henley furrowed his brows in confusion as to what had changed besides being violently hit. And felt his skin split open even more from where multiple incisions had been made along his face. Wincing, Henley attempted to relax the muscle in his face.
The blood ran down his face freely, as the tender vessels on the face are wont to do, and Henley angled his head slightly to avoid them running into his eye or mouth.
From this angle, he could see that the rings on General Jace's fingers were dripping in blood. His blood.
General Jace grinned as he reached his other hand up and smeared the blood across Henley's face and rubbed it between his fingers; Henley shuddered at the touch of his enemy, furthermore, the permitted touch of the enemy.
"Next time you think of disobeying me, remember this." the General spoke, softly, wiping his bloody hand on the other side of Henley's face. "Now get up, I have some decrees to make."
Looking around, the once Prince apologised to his subjects with only his eyes. It was all he could do without breaking his word. He was met with only silence, and the dejected sympathy that comes from those who have little, but pity those with less.
Henley staggered to his feet, immediately set upon by guards who bound him and gagged him viciously in front of his people, in front of his courts, in front of-
Ezra.
Oh, Ezra.
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Yep, so we have had the first actual whump impact! I am actually bricking myself about getting to the actual whump.
It's probably shite, but be as gentle as possible please, I hope it was alright!
Thank you, I’m so glad!!! I’m happy to see some good reviews in the tags lol.
Writing an ongoing series that gets feedback is such a wild experience, because without asks like yours, this series wouldn’t exist at all. While writing this chapter, just this one chapter out of the dozens I’ve written, I convinced myself of the following:
1. This shit sucks
2. Nobody cares
3. People won’t like Tommy standing up for himself, and yet
4. It’s boring that Tommy never stands up for himself
5. There’s too much condensed Bad Things Happening and it’s too bleak and miserable to read but also
6. I need to make more Bad Things Happen because not enough Bad Things are Happening so it’s not whumpy enough and people will lose interest
7. I’m overusing the same words too much and every person on planet earth personally hates me
8. I’m trying too hard not to sound repetitive so it just sounds stupid and every person on planet earth personally hates me
9. I’m not a good enough writer or smart enough to pull off a good story, even though I am so proud of this story so far and I haven’t magically become a completely different person overnight
10. I should just give up and scrap this
But for one reason or another, often just because I said I would post something, I DO finish the chapter and I DO post it and people are so, so kind and so, so receptive to my story!!!!! And I am so glad I did it!!!
Thank you for your message. It means a lot to me. They all do, every single time. Will I go through the five stages of grief again while I write the next update? Yeah probably. But it’s still worth it to get to share my creation and find, to my infinite delight, that other people love it too.
