Arracen sat in the dungeons of his own castle, and cried. He wondered whether he would be publicly executed to send a message to his own people, or left to rot in this cell until he died, or worse. He wondered what would happen to his people, what tyranny they might be subjected to at the whims of their conqueror. But mostly he cried for Nelisa and Lint.
He didnât know what had happened to them. Nelisa at least would have the good sense to pretend she was no one important, possibly even attempt an escape, but certainly Idalis would have heard of them, and it would be so easy to scare the servants into revealing the truth. Would he have them killed, or give them to his men for entertainment? Would he keep them for himself, just to show them and all that he, Arracen, could no longer protect even those he loved most?
Maybe he should have kept fighting, for them. But then, had there really been a chance for anything other than more death and less mercy?
The cut in his arm throbbed with pain; it barely bled anymore, but certainly, it should be seen to by a doctor. Then again, plenty of the soldiers he had ordered into battle had to go without proper care, there simply werenât enough medics; didnât it serve him right, then?
He hadnât been able to protect or care for anyone, at the end.
He had lost track of time when he finally heard footsteps and the shine of a torch approaching the barred door of his cell. Four soldiers, wearing Idalisâ colours, came into view and unlocked the door.
»By the Kingâs orders, you are to come with us.«
There was no point arguing; Idalis had already proven he had no issue threatening his life. He tried to stealthily dry his tears as he was escorted upstairs, the fading daylight still bright after the darkness of the dungeon.
They brought him into one of the guest rooms.
»Clean yourself up, sir. You will join the king for supper.«
Arracen stared at the door as it was slammed in his face, completely baffled. What was going on? What was Idalis playing at? Did he want to present his captive to the court - to blackmail his, Arracenâs, followers into loyalty, or purely as a show of triumph?
The tub was even filled with warm water, and on the bed lay a set of his own civil clothing, clearly straight from his wardrobe, which Idalis must have shamelessly rifled. It wasnât a very festive outfit, but it was more than decent.
He pulled himself together; no matter how anxious it made him, for now he didnât have a choice but to do as he was told. He certainly didnât want to anger the man who held Nelisaâs and Lintâs lives in his hands if he hadnât already killed them.
He would see how much wiggling room he could carve out once Idalis finally deigned to tell him what he was up to.
The warm water was so comforting he was tempted to just sink back and relax into it for a moment. But he didnât know how much time he had to get ready, and really, right now he didnât feel like he deserved this kind of luxury, so he opted for a quick full-body wash instead. It felt plenty luxurious, even so, to finally get the sweat and blood and grime still clinging to him from the battle off. The water stung in his wound, but at least it had stopped bleeding. He wondered whether Idalis had plain forgotten he was wounded, or wanted him to suffer, or force him to bargain for a doctor.
It didnât matter. Without doubt, he still was better off than most of the wounded, so he really should stop wallowing in his misery.
He swallowed thickly, noticing how dry his throat was. There was a jar of water on the bedside table, and he took a hesitant sip, unwilling to trust anything Idalis had given him. He was hungry - he hadnât had anything to eat since his capture, except a slice of bread a dungeon guard, one of his own, slipped him when none of Idalisâ people were looking, and he didnât really know how long it had been. He had barely noticed it at first through the fear for his loves and the humiliation of being manhandled home into his own castle, but by now it was almost painful.
He would have supper with the king, theyâd said. He wondered, bitterly, whether Idalis would enjoy watching him try to stay dignified in front of a meal fit for a king, while he was so starved.
He forced a deep breath, dressed himself, and sat down in the chair by the window to await whatever Idalis had in store for him. He couldnât lose his head now, whether from fear or from hunger; Lintâs and Nelisaâs lives might hinge on his actions.
He was glad he had been quick, because it wasnât long before the door opened after a brief knock not waiting for a response.
Once more he was escorted by guards, this time into the dining room.
He had half-expected it to be filled with sneering faces Idalis had assembled, ready to watch him flounder in a desperate attempt to protect all he loved.
Instead, the room was almost empty. Only two people sat at the table.
He was led forward to its head, and forced onto his knees; not that it took much forcing - he hated how pliable he was being, but he had to put his loved onesâ safety first, and that meant not angering the man before him.
He forced himself, despite his fear, to look up at the man sitting in his fatherâs place, where he himself had only sat so briefly. All these deaths on the battlefield he had decided were warranted to protect the rest of his people, and now it had all been for nothing. Fresh tears caught in his throat, but he forced them down; he would not give the conquerer the satisfaction of seeing him weep.
Idalis stared down at him like a hawk, shifting slightly as he examined his prey. He was startlingly young, younger than Arracen himself - he knew this, of course, when he was still a hostage, he had heard the king laugh off this child-king of a distant land; but that was before they all learned better, before the insatiable young man marched across one border after another. On the right-hand seat, a man that could only be Cassio sat and examined him as well, less like a hawk, more like a cold-blooded reptile.
»That will do,« Idalis told the guards within a moment, and gestured at the chair to his left once they had disappeared. »Take a seat.« His voice was oddly soft, knowing what he was and what he had done.
Notes | I didn't know when to end this, so I'll just post it like this.
Exactly what it says on the tin - Arracen gets to see his beloveds again! Featuring a guest appearance by the healer who cannot pronounce ? who apparently after being conquered continued their career with minimal interruption :D
Having a decent meal had soothed Arracen more than heâd have liked to admit. Yet, as he was escorted upstairs, he couldnât stop the nerves clawing up his throat. He had been far too wrapped up in his worries for Nelisa and Arracen to let go of them on the word of a man who had held a sword to his throat.
Were they really okay? Where were they?
He couldnât decide whether to feel more relieved or confused when he was led to the consortâs quarters. Exactly where he had left them.
»I was too busy to think of what to do with them, so I just left them where they were,« Idalis explained, then smiled too smugly for comfort. »I guess you can stay here with them. Since youâre considering.« His smile slipped when his eyes flickered to Arracenâs arm. »And I will make sure a doctor will see you. I expect you to recover well.«
Arracen couldnât decide whether that was an order, a threat, or a simple statement - it was all a bit too much to keep up. He decided to take it at face value. »Thank you.«
He thought he saw the ghost of a smile flicker over Idalisâ face.
The door opened, and Arracenâs anxiety reached its peak. Were they-?
»Arracen!« Nelisa rushed towards the door, her voice catching in her throat, then she stopped and, uncertainly, bowed to Idalis, who had stayed behind him. »Your Majesty.«
»Nelisa.« Arracen all but fell into her arms, pulling her close, only opening one arm to also pull in Lint when he approached a little more cautiously. He had done his best to keep his composure the entire evening, but it was gone now, he couldnât wait a moment more.
It was all he could do not to ask whether they were okay while Idalis was right there, after he had already told him so, as if he doubted his word.
They seemed alright, at least in bodily condition.
»I suppose I will leave you, then.« He looked around to see Idalis smile, and again, it appeared strangely genuine. »I expect your decision in the morning.«
In the morning.
Not all that much time to consider, then. But at least he would have opportunity to consult with his lovers. Not his advisors, but then, it was only too easy to imagine why Idalis wouldnât want him to.
»I understand,« he said quietly.
»Good night,« Idalis said to him, still smiling, before he turned deadly serious with startling suddenness. »For the sake of all of us, donât try to leave the castle grounds, will you?«
As soon as the door fell closed behind him, Arracen, Nelisa, and Lint all started talking at once.
»Are you alright?«
»Youâre injured!«
»Where have you been?«
»What has he done to you?«
»Itâs so good to see you again!«
»I was so worried!«
Even Arracen himself wasnât sure later who had said what in that flurry of love and worry, but it was Nelisa, ever practical, who put an end to it with a soft laugh, the most comforting sound Arracen thought heâd ever heard. »Enough, enough! Letâs take turns.«
None of them were quite willing to let go of one another, so it was a bit of a challenge to maneuver to sit on the bed. Arracen held them close on either side, their arms wrapped around him, the burning in his arm, having been jostled in all the huggery, negligible compared to the warmth and relief seeping into him.
»Are you okay?« Lint began, looking up at him wide-eyed. »Youâre injured.«
»Itâs not - itâs just a scratch, Iâll be alright.« Arracen swallowed. He barely knew how to begin telling them about what had happened, so he jumped right in. »He wants to marry me.«
Nelisa gasped. »And-?«
»Are you two alright?« Arracen felt bad brushing over Nelisa, but he had to know. »I didnât - didnât know what had happened - what heâd done to you-«
»Weâre alright, weâve just been in here.«
»He thought I was a pet,« Lint said quietly.
»He - he said something like that, that he thought I kept a pet.« Arracen studied Lintâs face - it must have hurt, after struggling so hard not to be one. »But youâre not,« he reiterated what he had told Lint a thousand times, and would tell him a thousand more if that was what it took to make him sure of it.
Lint nodded, and whispered, still spooked at the memory, »I told him that.«
Arracen beamed at him. For Lint to tell that a total stranger - a very powerful stranger at that; being the best thing Arracen had heard in weeks was an insultingly low bar for that. He kissed the top of Lintâs head. »Iâm glad you did. And not just for your sake,« he added. »He was⊠he kind of implied he was upset with me because of - because he thought that.«
»Did he hurt you?« Nelisa almost shouted.
»No, I - he put me in the dungeons but nothing worse than that.« It was bad enough, by far. Maybe they would talk about it later, what it had been like, to sit there alone and frightened and desperate without knowing what would become of them. But not now. Now they were all safe.
Nelisa eyed him a moment, as if she knew there was something he wasnât telling them, but then picked up the other subject he had so unceremoniously dropped. »And now he wants to marry you?«
Arracen nodded wearily. »He⊠wants to gain the peopleâs support.« It felt all wrong. Wasnât he betraying them, then, by seemingly endorsing that man? But then - if it would gain him the right to rule again, be a protective layer between them and Idalis - wasnât it the right thing to do?
»And we both need an heir sooner or later,« he continued, quietly. This one seemed awfully right, an inescapable truth.
»And you?« Nelisa asked quietly. »Do you want a child by him?«
He hadnât even looked at it this way, he realized. He had been too caught up in worry about the immediate consequences to consider that heir they had talked about as his child. With Idalis sharing fatherhood, would he be able to raise them to be a good, responsible, caring monarch to his people? Or would they become a glory-hungry conqueror like Idalis? How much say would Idalis even leave him in the matter?
Would either of them be a good father?
»I donât want a child at all,« he muttered, but shook his head as soon as the words came out. No, that wasnât quite right - he very much did want to raise a child, he always had. Children, even. »No, I mean, I just⊠I donât want toâŠÂ«
He had resigned himself to the fact that he couldnât have one without going through the ordeal most fit to remind him of his bodily condition. Sure, he could adopt all the wards he wanted, but he would have to bear an heir anyway. His plan had been - when he couldnât put the thought out of his mind - to find some nobleman, or perhaps, if he dreamed boldly, a noblewoman sharing his situation and understanding all the better, whom he could grow fond of and who would respect him for what he was outside of King. Then get it over with with the least suffering possible.
It still seemed a lot. And now⊠he didnât know how Idalis would treat him, and he certainly didnât like the man; the fact he barely even had a choice in the matter was just the icing on the cake.
He couldnât leave his people to whatever ruler Idalis saw fit.
He buried his face in Nelisaâs shoulder, wishing he could just stay there, safe between them, forever.
But he couldnât, because there was a knock at the door.
He could feel Nelisa straighten up, and he was confused himself for a moment before he remembered. »Oh! He said heâd send a doctor. Come in,« he called, getting up; there was no way around it.
The doctor entered, their medic bag in hand, their eyes flickering curiously across them bfore they settled on Arracen. It wasnât anyone Arracen recognized - someone from Idalisâ entourage, then. They gave him a bow. »Good evening, your Highness. I was sent to look at your arm, right.«
As Arracen got to his feet, the scent wafting up from the table made his stomach growl, easily loud enough for Idalis to hear, and he had to swallow down more tears, this time of sheer humiliation. But Idalis didnât comment. Arracen didnât even catch a smirk.
Idalis started eating as soon as Arracen sat down, implying permission to follow his lead. Arracen tried to remain civil, tried not to let on how desperate he was, even as the food in front of him pushed every other worry to the back of his mind. It shouldnât, really. What was he, some kind of beast?
He felt Idalisâ sharp eyes on himself, still, and once he had sated the worst of his hunger, he forced himself to look at him again; he wouldnât sit here with his head down like a kicked dog waiting for his new master to grace him with some insight into what was going on.
Even though maybe it would have been safer.
»I was under the impression you kept a human pet,« Idalis said abruptly, dipping his bread into the rich broth that had been served. »Iâve since been informed of the situation. It seems we are on the same page about this matter.«
Arracenâs mind, still reeling from the absurd accusation, raced to figure out what Idalis was trying to tell him. Was he trying to make him feel secure? Preparing to pull the rug by telling him this was their only common ground and so Arracen was currently having his last meal?
He had - at least heard about, if not met, Lint. Something must have happened, for better or for worse. That was, really, the only thing that mattered.
He couldnât fuck this up, for his and Nelisaâs sake. »Iâm glad to hear that.« Have you met Lint? Is he alright? What have you done with him?
»Heâs fine.« This time Idalis smirked, and Arracen couldnât keep looking at him, knowing how transparent he was. »He and your other lover.«
Nelisa hadnât had the good sense to escape, then. He was momentarily overwhelmed with a mixture of terror and selfish relief, but he had to focus. There it was - the threat was coming, he could feel it, as inevitable as a monster approaching a ship at sea. Idalis was just about to tell him what he would need to do, what more of his dignity he would have to trade away, to keep it this way.
The worst part was that he would do it. Of course he would.
»But that wasnât what I wanted to talk to you. I have a proposal to offer you.«
Oh, of course. A proposal. If Arracen hadnât been so hungry, his appetite would have abandoned him at the duplicity. »Iâm listening.« What else could he say?
»I purpose to marry you.«
For a moment, Arracen could only stare in shock. One among the two of them had lost his mind, there was no other explanation. »I beg your pardon?« he finally choked out.
»I wish to marry you.« Idalis set his cutlery down. »Your people love you, you know that. It will be easier for me, and them, if they learn to love me also, and what simpler way to achieve that than through you? And further, I will need an heir sooner or later. That is to say, a consort that will carry them.«
Arracen swallowed thickly. It was always going to come to this; he had known that his whole life. If there was one thing royals did not get a choice in, it was the matter of producing an heir. It had been easy to put it out of his mind, for a time.
But maybe he shouldnât have.
Then it wouldnât have hit him like a horseâs kick to the chest now, when everything hinged on his reaction.
»If you agree, and I find you trustworthy, you may rule this your country in my stead while Iâm away. Your lovers will be safe - I wonât mind them-« his eyes flickered to Cassio, »-as long as the child is mine, and so long as my husband cares for them, I will protect them like family.« There was a genuine softness to his voice for a moment, before he sobered up. »And you are also royal. You, too, will need an heir sooner or later. I am offering you a mutually beneficial arrangement.«
Arracen still couldnât find words. All his lessons in diplomacy and rhetorics, swept away by the notion that, in fact, he could not and would not lead the life of a man given a body that fit.
Idalis gave a small huff. »Let me be clear, I am proposing to take you as my king consort, not my queen. You can have all the moondew you want after you give me an heir; it will be easy, now that we can work on rebuilding the trade routes. But I do need an heir and - I like men. Which makes you the preferred candidate, politics aside.« His voice trailed off, and for the first time, his gaze did too.
It was true, Arracen reckoned. There werenât many male royals with a womb, not that he knew of. The argument made his heart a little lighter, even; Idalis was choosing him because he was a man, not in spite of it.
Not to spite him.
He had heard of moondew - that fairytale substance that could transform someoneâs body to match their soul. It wasnât really a fairytale, but it might as well have been in the chaos of the past years, with him going to be a hostage at Thobrinosâ court, and then the war Idalis started messing up all the trade routes from the west.
Eliphion, the country that was truly Idalisâ own, held the largest known sources. He wasnât making an empty promise, or at least he wasnât thinking so, Arracen was willing to believe that much.
But none of that mattered; he had to stay sensible. All the sweet promises aside, he was being coerced into marriage with a man who had taken what was his, and was now offering it right back to him as if it was a great gift.
He might have to take it - that was the worst part - but he would not let Idalis pretend it was anything other. He wasnât sure he really wanted to see what was underneath the mask, but he wouldnât just let it slide like a helpless child. »And if I donât agree?« His voice almost cracked over the words, and he hated it.
Idalis cocked his head, eyeing him as if he hadnât particularly considered this eventuality. »I will appoint a steward I see fit, and you⊠well, I suppose I could just put you under house arrest. See to it that you donât stir up trouble. Your people wouldnât be thrilled to hear youâre dead, Iâm sure, and I am no tyrant.«
Arracen had to hold back a snort at the last words; that was rich. »And what of⊠Lint and Nelisa?« Idalis had said he would protect them if Arracen married him. Which must mean-
»You really care for them, donât you?« Idalis said softly, as if he didnât know, as if he wasnât holding their lives over Arracenâs head. »They could go into house arrest with you, if they so choose. Or they could go back to Skalasia. I donât care, so long as they donât start trouble here.«
Once more, Arracen found himself thrown off balance.
There was no threat - nothing that would make matters worse, when matters werenât half as bad as he had feared, and an option that would make matters better.
Well, largely better.
»May I consider?« he finally managed. Part of him doubted he would be given time; surely, Idalis had purposely sprung the proposal on him like this, so he would feel cornered and make an unwise choice.
But part of him didnât believe that any more.
»Of course.« Idalis smiled, and it looked bafflingly genuine. What did he think he was doing? Did he really believe this was a generous offer? »When youâve finished your meal, would you like to see your lovers? Take it as a sign of goodwill.«
He had hoped - and his older and wiser advisors had agreed with that hope - that this narrow valley would counteract the enemyâs numbers, that the steep slopes would hinder his cavalry.
But they were losing.
There was no denying they were losing. He had tried to protect his country and people, and he had failed.
He had finally started to feel like things were looking up after he returned home and negotiated a costly peace from Thobrinos, and now this unprovoked attack from another side shattered that precious safety - and he had failed.
He could have cried, but there wasnât time. In the middle of the battlefield, he knew there was only one thing to do, in hopes the enemy would be gracious enough to accept it. Continuing on would only mean to throw more lives away.
There had been too many already. He had failed.
His heart hurt and his eyes stung and he was sore all over after weeks of intermittent fighting and there was a vicious cut bleeding down his arm and he called for a surrender.
He rode to the front, knowing in his bones he might be killed. Even if the surrender was accepted, even if - and he hoped so with all his heart - his troops were spared, he might be killed as the enemy king.
He didnât want to die. His whole body was screaming to run away; Petal, of course, noticed, swishing his tail and tossing his head nervously, and Arracen had to give him a reassuring pat. »Itâs okay,« he mumbled to the horse, or maybe to himself. »Youâre going to be okay.« That much was true, he hoped. Everybody knew the enemy king loved his horses, and there was hope he would treat Petal well.
There had been so many hopes shattered.
Arracen didnât want to die.
The fighting had indeed stopped when his officers signalled their surrender, and a drop of relief squeezed through the fear. At least. At least his soldiers wouldnât be massacred because he had ordered their weapons down.
He hadnât been sure. This king had been conquering whatever he liked for no reason other than he liked to, there was no telling if he would be merciful.
In truth, he wasnât quite sure even now. Maybe the bloodbath was yet to happen, if he said or did the wrong thing.
The enemy king had come forward as well, flanked, like Arracen, only by his bodyguards. Arracen couldnât make out much of the manâs face behind the helmet as he approached, but he imagined he could see the spark of excitement in the half-hidden eyes.
The enemy stopped first, requiring Arracen to come to him. Idalis. He should really stop thinking of him as the enemy, when the best outcome left was that he would become his liege, the country he had sworn to protect subject to his whims. And what would become of Lint and Nelisa?
He felt sick.
He moved closer, slow so as not to appear threatening, steady so as not to appear disrespectful, until Idalis raised a hand, and he stopped like a well-trained dog.
»Kneel.« Arracen could hear the smug smile in Idalisâ voice - as if this was only a game to him, as if he wasnât taking everything Arracen loved - but there was something more dangerous underneath it, a hardness that only made him more afraid for his people. For his beloveds.
He could not hesitate. He swung off Petal, handing the reins to the head of his bodyguard, stepped forward, and dropped to his knees, pulling off his helmet.
It was so easy; he was exhausted and wounded and desperate.
It was the hardest thing he had done in his life. There was a plea stuck in his throat, for Lint and Nelisa and his whole people. And under it, a more cowardly plea for himself.
He didnât want to die. He was only too aware how very reachable his neck was to Idalisâ sword now.
The enemy soldiers whispered and chuckled between themselves.
The field behind him was dead silent. He should probably say something; he owed them this much.
»Please spare my soldiers, they were faultless but for their loyalty to me.« His voice came out scratched up worse than his body.
»A grievous fault, all things considered.« The king spoke lightly, as if each word didnât plunge into Arracenâs heart like an icy dagger. No. He had surrendered to save these people. If-
»Weâll see what can be done about it.« Still that awfully light tone, as if the matter wasnât of much importance, as if they werenât negotiating the lives of thousands.
The cold tip of the sword caught under Arracenâs chin, and his breath caught in his throat just the same.
He didnât want to die. He wanted to hold Nelisa and Lint close and never let them go. He wanted to protect them and protect all. He wanted to be safe, just once.
He didnât want to die.
Idalis tipped his chin up and forced him to look up at him.
Arracen was frozen. He was not yet dead, and that was all that mattered. When Idalis, after staring down at him for a moment, took his blade back, and without further ado ordered him taken away, and a pair of enemy soldiers grabbed him by the arms, Arracen felt nothing but a dizzying rush of relief.
Lint could barely breathe. He could barely think. He could barely be, he felt like he might cease to exist any moment; not die, just stop.
He was being stolen. He had been taken from his master, he was being stolen, he had been ripped from his one purpose in life, from the one person who could give life to him, in any meaningful way. He was being stolen.
He kept his eyes squeezed shut and his ears covered, as if that would help, as if reality might change, as if he might wake from a nightmare, but he still felt the rattle of the carriage taking him further and further from his home - from his master.
He could barely breathe.
Something touched his wrist, and he was squeezed so tight into the corner of the carriage he could not retreat any further. He turned away his head, he didnât want to see, or hear, or face a world in which he had been taken from his master.
Stolen by people, although that should be a trivial detail, he almost had come to trust. Almost had come to consider friends, inasmuch as a pet could have human friends. It didnât matter, of course, only his master mattered, the master he had been stolen from. That was where the unbearable ache in his heart came from. That was all, he wanted to go back where he belonged, not stay here with the thieves who cared nothing for him the way his master did.
The touch retreated, eventually. He wouldnât have dared disobey a person like that at home, under the care and guidance of his master, but these were thieves.
Nothing more.
His heart ached so desperately.
After a time in which he felt nothing but his bleeding heart and the hum in his head still trying to come to terms with having been stolen and the carriage rattling along, the latter came to a stop.
»Lint.« The voice was so loud and clear he couldnât press his hands hard enough over his ears not to hear. Someone grabbed his wrists, gently but strongly, as if he could ever resist a person.
Arracen. No - the thief.
Lint didnât fight as he pulled his hands off his ears; there was no point. He had been stolen, he was who-knew-how-many miles from home, from his master, and he had no idea how to react. He hadnât been prepared for this beyond »Donât go with thieves,« as if that werenât self-evident.
He hadnât known.
»Lint. We - weâre taking a break. Come on, eat something with us.«
He opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, and he realized he had been too numb to notice himself crying.
»There, thatâs better.«
»Donât touch me,« Lint whispered; even speaking the words sent a tremor through him, they were words he should not ever say, but this was his thief.
»Okay.« Arracen - the thief let go of him. »Iâm sorry. Will you come?«
Lint blinked away the tears. Dim light - dawn - was creeping between the curtains at the carriage windows. Day was breaking.
If he escaped, could he hope to find help? Could he hope to be returned to his master?
He wouldnât as long as he stayed in here. He forced his body out of the corner he had pushed it into; it wasnât like it offered any protection or comfort anyway. That was all an illusion. Only his master could do that.
Everything was unfamiliar when he crawled out of the carriage. They were standing on a little clearing by the side of the road, surrounded by thick forest through which the road ran, for how long, he had no way of knowing. There was no indication of other people nearby, besides the two starting a small campfire to cook breakfast over.
Nelisa - the traitor - looked up at him with worry in her eyes, as if she cared, but he knew she didnât, she was not his master and she was a traitor and he had almost - but it didnât matter, he couldnât explain where the sudden jab in his heart came from, it wasnât like it mattered he had almost started thinking of her as a friend. She was a traitor and a thief, that was all.
The other was the foreign unknown who had come to take them all away, the one Arracen had called the spymaster, had been so happy to see, knowing she would help him steal Lint.
The horses had been unhitched and were grazing lazily.
There was no one else, only forest stretching on for who knew how long. He couldnât outrun the humans, certainly not when one could just hop onto a horse to chase him down, not when he didnât know how far he would have to go to find a loyal subject of his masterâs to help him, not when he didnât know where he was or where to go.
He didnât know what to do. Would he be remiss in his duties to his master if he didnât at least try to run, no matter the consequences? The forest floor, even here where soft grass grew in what would become a patch of light when the sun rose, needled his feet; he was used to going barefoot, but on soft carpets and smooth marble and groomed lawns, and his master had always made sure any calluses were scrubbed away so every part of him could stay soft and pleasant. Fresh tears shot into his eyes at the memory of how kind his master had been, even helping him in fulfilling his easy duties.
He would cut up his feet within a few steps of running along the stony, brambly road, he was sure of it, and that was not how he was supposed to take care of the body that belonged to his master.
Reluctantly, he stepped forward, following A- the thief as he led the way to the campfire. The chilly morning air drew goosebumps over his skin under too-thin clothes opening up to it in too many places.
The thief noticed when he turned to sit down. »Ah! Let me find you something to wear, you must be cold. Donât worry, weâll take care of you.«
But that was a lie, Lint knew that. It could only be a lie, after they had already violated that claim in the most devastating way, in taking him from his master.
Arracen had been given leave to move around the castle grounds, and promptly Cassio had caught him off guard as he went for a walk into the gardens, trying to distract himself from everything, for however short.
Arracen could feel his insides squirm uncomfortably. It was only too easy to imagine what Cassio wanted to talk to him about, and the last thing he needed was for Cassio to treat him as a rival. The thought he might have to contend with the jealousy of such an influential person so close to Idalis, when he hardly even wanted this marriage himself, sickened Arracen. No doubt Cassio could make his life a living hell, as if matters werenât already going to be bad enough.
Cassio remained silent for a long while as they walked through the orchard. The castle gardens were practical over pretty, but for Arracen, they had a charm. They helped feed and care for the people around them, just like he always wanted.
Finally Cassio said, »I wanted to talk to you about your upcoming marriage. I thought it might be worth clarifying some matters.« He paused to look straight at him, and there wasnât any of the hostility Arracen had feared in his face; he couldnât pinpoint what there was, either, though, and that was bad enough.
»Of course,« Arracen replied, determined to stay polite, stay on Cassioâs good side as long as he could.
Cassio continued walking. »Iâm sure youâve heard rumours about the King and I.«
»Yes.« There it was. Maybe he should be subtler, but he needed to make this unambiguously clear. »And I have no desire to come between you.«
»I know,« Cassio replied instantly and took Arracen aback. »That is one thing I wanted to⊠perhaps put your mind at ease about. I do not want you as my rival, and if you do not want that either, then we will have no issue.« He even gave him a small smile, and Arracen managed a smile back, even if he didnât believe it looked half-genuine.
»The king is not a bad man,« Cassio continued, more quietly. »I know he came to you as a conqueror, but⊠you have nothing to fear from him as a husband. He will treat you well, he has a kind heart.«
A kind heart. The sort of kindness that would allow him to take and kill and conquer if only he wanted. »Why are you telling me this?«
»I figured you must be nervous. Going into a marriage with a man you know nothing but the worst of.«
It was so accurate it hit Arracen straight in the heart. He had been too worked up about too many things in the past days and weeks, and the tears came far too easily. Cassio didnât push as Arracen turned away in a desperate attempt to compose himself.
»Thereâs another thing I feel you ought to know, if you havenât already heard.« Cassio stopped again, and Arracen turned back towards him, not at all confident but hopeful he didnât look like a crying wreck.
»I am like you.«
Arracen didnât need to ask what he meant - something about Cassioâs tone made it clear he was revealing something deeply personal. But he couldnât think of a response. He hadnât expected it at all, and it only brought another factor into the chaos of his feelings.
Thankfully, Cassio continued on. »When I told my parents I was a boy⊠Idalis and I were already quite close, and they had wanted me to become his queen. It didnât change their mind. When I told Idalis,« he smiled at the memory, »he got me my first moondew behind everyoneâs back. We were only foolish youths then, butâŠÂ«
As his voice trailed off, Arracen found his speech again. »You - could have born his heir.« It was a stupid thing to say - why would Cassio want it any more than Arracen himself? And clearly, Idalis cared enough about one of them to not push him into it.
Cassio chuckled. »The court already thinks I hold too much sway with Idalis. If I were to bear his heir, no doubt I would find myself with a dagger in my back sooner rather than later. And,« he added more quietly, »I donât want to. Iâve never wanted to.« He reached out for a moment, almost as if to take Arracenâs hand, but didnât touch him. »I know you donât want to either. And he knows it, too. If he gives you grief about it - I mean, additional grief⊠speak to me. Iâll set him straight.« There was that small smile on his lips again. »He wonât. But just in case.«
Arracen didnât trust his voice. He barely managed to choke out a »Thank you.«
1,732 words | Original work: The royal pet, the scullery maid, and their lover
Content | Pet whump, conditioning, dehumanization, fear, conditioning, implied: past and future non/dub-con everything, did I mention conditioning
Notes | Me: This series will be on the lighter, perhaps even humourous side as far as whump can do that
Also me: *this*
Okay then. Not so. I guess.
Lint just wants to be with his master, is that too much to ask? Yes, it has a lot of repetition but thatâs just how Lintâs mind is about this - is it too much?
âMay I request a favour?â
âOf course.â
âMight I spend the evening with your pet? We donât have them where Iâm from.â
The King chuckled heartily. âCertainly.â He ruffled the petâs hair. âYouâll be good for our guest, wonât you?â
Lint smiled softly, his heart skipping a beat. But whatever his beloved master wanted, he wanted too. He looked up at him with adoring eyes, leaning into the touch. He didnât want to do the same for the guest. It didnât seem right. âYes, Master,â he breathed, as if there was nothing he wanted more than what his beloved master wanted. He shouldnât want anything other, and he wouldnât.
âGood boy.â The King smiled down at him, and Lint felt the familiar spark of pride. Then the King turned towards the guest again. âJust donât be too rough with him.â
The guest - some prince from a neighbouring kingdom, the King didnât bother Lint with the details of politics - smiled without warmth, and Lint tried not to notice it. âI wonât.â
Lint hadnât been to the guest suite often; it wasnât unlike his own, just tidier, more dignified. He liked his fluffy furs and cozy cushions, but evidently men had to make do without as many of them. The fireplace with the comfortable seating arrangement in front was almost identical though. In one corner, there was a writing desk the like of which Lint of course didnât have.
He caught himself trying to keep himself occupied with his observations. This wasnât what he was here for.
The guest had sat down on the armchair before the fireplace, the shadows from the flickering flames making his youthful face hard to read as he looked at Lint.
Lint tried to smile up at him, even as he remained standing close to the door. When the man didnât say anything, he ventured, âWhat would you like me to do, Master?â
âWhat would you do?â
The question felt unpleasant in more ways than one. Was he questioning Lintâs obedience? Or was he genuinely testing his boundaries - which surely meant he was going to push them? âAnything you want,â Lint crooned, smiling softly. It still felt wrong to say this to anyone other than the King. He didnât want to say this to anyone other; it made him ill at ease, in more ways than one. But the King wanted him to, and anything his master wanted-
âCome sit here.â
Lint sauntered over to the fireplace and folded his legs to collapse gracefully at the guestâs feet. Of course he wasnât going to sit on the couch unless requested. In the presence of men, this was his place.
He wished the King was here. He blinked up at the prince, still smiling, while he was looking down on him with furrowed brows. Probably Lint should help him relax. He rested first a hand against his knee, then his forehead. âWhat do you want, Master?â he purred.
âDo you enjoy this?â the prince asked, almost brusquely.
âVery much so,â Lint whispered. How could I not enjoy you? he would have said to the King, but it would have sounded fake to the prince, since he knew him so little. He was glad to have a good reason not to say it.
The prince stretched out a hand, and for the briefest of moments, Lint felt the impulse to flinch away. He didnât move, but even so, a wave of guilt washed through him. He had promised to be good for the Kingâs guest. He would be good for the King.
The prince gingerly ran two fingers through his hair, his touch so light it almost seemed he was afraid. Lint lightly raised his head into it, trying to control the shiver wanting to run down his spine. The King wanted him to be good for him, so he would be. But the prince already drew back from him. Was it his fault? Had he done wrong already?
âIâm Arracen,â the prince said, taking Lint completely aback. He looked up at the prince, hoping his confusion wasnât showing on his face. How was he supposed to react to this? What did the prince expect? Before he could do more than make sure none of his dread was showing, Arracen continued, âWhatâs your name?â
âLint,â Lint replied with a warm smile, even more confused. The prince knew this. Where was he going with this? Why couldnât he just tell Lint what he wanted? Lint just wanted to be good for him, just like the King had wanted him to-
âDidnât you ever have another name?â
A part of Lint, inside, froze, but he managed to not let it show on the surface. He forcefully pushed the fear back that was radiating from his core, back to where it couldnât do any harm, like showing on his face or making him tremble. âNo,â he hummed, turning his head so his cheek was now against the princeâs leg, and raised a hand to trace gentle fingers around his kneecap. For the first time this evening, he felt the urge to push higher without express command; anything to get out of this line of conversation.
But of course he couldnât do that. Instead, he looked up at the prince again, and tried a cute pout. âWonât you tell me what you want?â He carefully kept his voice soft, playful.
âWhat about you?â the prince said, unmoving.
Lint tilted his head. He couldnât figure the prince out, and he hated being this confused, but kept a smile on his lips. âI donât know what you...â
âWhat do you want?â
Not this. He hated this game. He knew he could only lose. Say Whatever you want again, and the prince would keep pushing him into this corner. Guess what it was the prince wanted, and almost certainly get it wrong. Even more certainly than with the King.
Not to mention the question usually meant his master wanted him to get it wrong, so there were no right answers to begin with. The King didnât do this to him often, but Lint hated this game.
âYou,â he sighed, fully expecting the prince to chastise him - or worse, whatever the princeâs definition of not too rough was; he knew the Kingâs, but he hadnât specified to the prince, after all.
The prince leant forward, and Lint followed the movement, allowing him to close in, of course, but also giving him room. He could feel the smile on his lips becoming more strained, but he hoped it wasnât showing; it mustnât be showing.
âNo, I mean it,â the prince said, furrowing his brow again. âWhat do you want, right this moment? What would you like to do?â
Lint wanted to scream. He wanted to go to the King, his real master, curl up by his side, please him in any way that didnât involve dealing with his guest who went out of his way to confuse and trap Lint.
But none of that mattered. The King wanted him to be good for the guest, and Lint wanted whatever his master wanted.
âI want to please you,â he said, leaning forward a little, keeping his eyes on the princeâs face. As far as royalty went, he looked fairly average. Young, perhaps younger than Lint. âI just donât know how.â
The prince held his gaze for a moment, and a weary look fell over his face before he fell back into the chair. âAlright. Alright then. Letâs go to bed.â
He pushed himself up from the chair with force, and Lint slid to the side, out of his way, before getting up himself, as gracefully as he had slumped down. There seemed to be a knot in his stomach. He didnât want to go to bed with anyone other than the King, it just didnât feel right; but at the same time, of course he wanted what his master wanted.
Either way, this was better than the dreadful uncertainty. He could be good in bed, whatever it was the prince wanted, specifically.
The prince led the way into the bedroom of the suite without looking back, and all Lint had to do was to follow.
He closed in when the prince started to undo the buttons of his shirt, his back to Lint, and carefully ran a hand up his shoulder, but the prince shook him off with a violent motion.
âDonât.â
âIâm sorry,â Lint whispered, the knot in his stomach tightening. He went to lounge on the bed instead, propping himself up on his elbows. The prince kept his back towards him and stripped in quick, efficient motions, so Lint took it he was not invited to look. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead in one hand, so that when the prince turned around, he would see Lint respected his wishes, even the unspoken ones. This was how it should be. Despite everything, Lint managed to relax a little. He would rather it was the King, but he could do this, and do it well.
Finally, after some more rustling of clothes, Lint heard the light tap of bare feet approaching the bed. But the prince wasnât coming to him; instead, he walked up to the other side of the bed. The mattress gave under his weight, and Lint rolled over to look at him, longingly.
The prince had put on his nightshirt, and his brow was still furrowed. âSleep.â He slipped under the covers, and blew out the light.
Lint lay in the darkness, trying to figure out what this meant. Had he done so poorly? Or did he misunderstand the prince? âMaster?â he asked softly, reaching out to caress him. Surely he didnât mean-
âI said donât,â the prince said, his voice now obviously strained. âJust go to sleep. I would appreciate it if you could not tell his Majesty about this, but I understand if you canât do that. Now sleep.â
Lint tried his best to obey. It was the least he could do after this absolute failure of an evening. He didnât even know what he had done wrong - but surely he had done something wrong.
He had just wanted to be good.
He had just wanted what his master wanted.
He had to fight back tears, and it turned out he couldnât even do the one simple thing the prince had asked of him.
1,378 words | Original work: The royal pet, the scullery maid, and their lover
Content | Implied: pet whump, conditioning
Notes | Listen I was going to write this chronologically but this is the part I currently want to get to so here it is. The juicy bit is towards the end so indulge me for a moment there.
Context for what happened after The Hostage: Nelisaâs new duties also involved Lintâs room. They slowly started becoming friends. Obv she also cleaned Arracenâs room. They slowly became friends. Arracen kept trying to get to Lint, âborrowingâ him from the King from time to time. They slowly... you guessed it. Arracen managed to arrage for the three of them to spend time together occasionally without drawing suspicion. When Arracen makes his escape for ~reasons~ he takes them both with them-
Arracen pulled his travelling cloak around himself, taking a deep breath before he quietly stepped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him for the last time.
Hopefully.
If this worked. It had to work.
As always, the guards were leaning by the staircase, quietly exchanging what Arracen assumed to be gossip, or ghost stories, or whatever else would ease the boredom of another uneventful shift. They hadnât noticed him. Arracen almost felt bad for getting them in trouble, but priorities had to be set.
He snuck around the corner at the other end of the corridor into what appeared to be a dead end providing nothing but a grand view of the castle grounds through big windows.
Except Nelisa had told him about the hidden service corridor ending here.
She was already standing in the narrow door, an unlit lantern in her hand. The moonlight was bright enough to show her furrowed brow, the faint doubt in her eyes, as if she wasnât sure he would keep his promise of taking her with him.
He didnât have time to reassure her. She would see soon.
She made a small motion towards his travelling bag, as if stopping herself from offering to carry it. He just smiled and shook his head, and she led the way down a narrow staircase he had never been supposed to see.
âLint,â she whispered, as if he needed to be reminded.
âYes.â
She pointed him at another door a floor down, and he left the bag with her while he tiptoed to Lintâs door. He didnât dare knock lest anyone else hear him. He prayed to every god of love that the king hadnât changed his mind and fetched Lint to keep him company tonight.
He hadnât. Lintâs slender figure was sprawled across the bed, alone. He wasnât sleeping deeply; Arracen could hear him murmur in his dreams, and when he put a hand on Lintâs shoulder, his eyes flew open immediately. His lips curled into their usual adoring smile before he could have recognized anything. âMaster?â he murmured sleepily.
âItâs me,â Arracen whispered.
Lint hoisted himself up on his elbows. âArracen?â Now he allowed himself to sound confused. His smile faded a little, but became more genuine in exchange, or so Arracen wanted to believe.
âYes. Come on - get dressed.â He tried to strike the right balance between friendly and commanding. He had long pondered whether he should tell Lint what was going on, but they simply didnât have time to risk a discussion - or worse. That didnât make him feel any better about doing it this way, though.
Lint obeyed, like he always obeyed. âWhere are we going?â he asked while he slipped into what was supposedly clothes. Arracen would have to borrow him some of his until they got home. He was glad Lint was asking questions - he never would have asked that from the king, he was sure.
âYouâll see. Come on.â
Lint followed him, trustingly, and Arracen could feel a white-hot spark of shame in his guts. Still, it was for Lintâs best, and he would surely see it that way once he had time and distance to think it all through.
âNelisa!â Lint greeted her joyously when they rejoined her.
âHey, Lint,â she replied, turning away even as she spoke under the guise of having to lead the way, and Arracen was sure she felt the same as him.
They got to the stables without incident, just as planned, and then out through their back.
Out.
They were free.
For a moment, Arracenâs heart stopped when there was no sign of the carriage he had arranged, before a dark figure stepped out between the trees into the light of the lantern Nelisa had lit, and bowed.
âYour Highness.â
Arracen could feel a smile spread across his lips, and not because of the address. They hadnât just sent someone - theyâd sent the spymaster herself.
They were in good hands. They were going to be alright.
âSpymaster,â he breathed, not even trying to hide his relief. When he noticed her taking in his companions, he only said, as firmly as he could, âTheyâre coming with me.â
Her eyes briefly caught on the bag he was carrying himself, but then she shrugged. âFollow me.â
Lint threw him questioning glances while they walked a short way through the dark copse, until they reached the carriage hidden at its other end, but Arracen didnât look at him, only took his hand and squeezed it, feeling like a liar.
The spymaster gestured for them to enter. Nelisa, who had been in front with the lantern, gave Arracen a questioning look of her own, but didnât even wait for a reply when she saw his stupid smile. They climbed into the carriage while the spymaster took the driverâs seat.
As soon as Arracen had shut the door, they drove off. He let himself fall back into his seat opposite the other two-
âWhere are we going?â Lint looked at him, wide-eyed, his perpetual smile still on his lips.
Arracen wished he could have told him before. That he could have trusted Lint to trust him. Was he really better than the king they were running from? He pushed the thought aside. âHome,â he said, and when Lint gave him a confused look, âMy country.â He felt he should say something more, something reassuring. He didnât expect Lint to be grateful, not yet, but he hoped he would understand...
Lintâs smile trickled away. âWhy didnât the King tell me-?â
âThe King doesnât know.â
The colour drained from Lintâs face so fast Arracen was worried he would faint. âWhat-? You-â
âYou deserve better than this,â Arracen said quietly, pleadingly.
âYouâre stealing me,â Lint breathed, a look of absolute horror on his face. His eyes flickered to the door, and Arracen was half-prepared to throw himself over to where he was sitting, and stop him from flinging himself from the moving carriage. âYouâre - you canât do this. You have to bring me back-â
âLint, you deserve better than being treated as a toy.â
âBut I am!â Arracen had never heard Lint so close to shouting. He was clinging on to himself, squeezing himself into the corner of the carriage, looking at Arracen with a fear Arracen had never wanted to see. âI belong to, to the King, you have to take me back! I belong to him! You canât, you canât just steal me-â He was breathing fast, like a cornered animal.
âLint, itâs going to be alright-â
âItâs - no! No! You - you canât do this - I belong to - you have to take me back to my master, please, you canât just take me away-â
Nelisa had watched quietly, but now she carefully leant closer. âLint.â Her voice was quiet, and maybe Lint actually hadnât heard her in his frenzy.
âYouâre a - I - I thought you were a good person! I - youâre a thief!â He was crying now, and Arracen wished he knew how to comfort him. The begging, the accusation, the despair and fear - it was breaking his heart. But he was not taking Lint back to be an apathetic pet again. He had hoped, after all their little excursions, that Lint was ready for this. How foolish he had been.
âYouâre a thief,â Lint whispered. âYouâre a thief, youâre stealing me-â
Lint flinched, pressing himself further into the corner as he backed away from her as well. âYou. You knew this. Youâre a traitor-â He sobbed, tears now running freely down his face. âI thought, I thought you were- you-â His eyes flickered between the two of them. âYouâre a traitor and a thief and I, I almost thought- you have to bring me back, please-â He pleadingly stared at Arracen.
Arracen could only shake his head.
Lint moaned with pain, covered his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could make the world around him go away.
Arracen felt his heart break with every beat. He hadnât expected Lint to be grateful, not yet, but he hadnât expected him to feel this blatantly betrayed.
They continued their journey to the aching rhythm of Lintâs sobs.
