even the litany of curses couldn't ease this pain.
mikkel is a hearty young lad. with a sick father and young siblings to feed, he'd boarded his first sail in hopes of bring some semblance of fortune as a deck crew. whilst, he'd imparted with the sort of excited naivety a boy age fourteen years of living would, i could go about to see the world, as well. killing two birds with one stone, hans had told him quietly right back that first night they'd spoken, while mikkel coyly nodded. again, he's a hearty lad. hardworking, good. every instructions hans laid out, the very few he could as they worked among other sailors, he'd followed well. smart, too.
it's unfortunate, is what it is, that through the throbbing of the pain from where the welts where his brother had laid his whips and tore at hans' skin, the boy has to bear witness to this as well. hans could hear him cry somewhere in the background, hurrying someone else inside their room. foolish, foolish boy ! he thinks vehemently, though he has no strength—nor attention—to genuinely scold. his back feels as though his prince brother alek had burned the flesh along with the whipping; it is searing. hans grunts, cries, and screams a guttural scream into the floors of the inn—if only, for a moment, he could direct the excruciating pain elsewhere.
mikkel is crouching besides hans now , tears stream down his face as he informs hans that he had brought in a healer. ❛⠀LEAVE ! ❜ hans screams. all— and he thinks so jaggedly, haphazardly, as though his own train of thoughts could not bear the pain long enough to have the words strung together. all he needs is some balm, he thinks with a lot of effort, some clean clothes to clean the blood, and any drinks that could let him sleep. that is all. that is all. ❛⠀i need not to be attended to. i need— i need rest. please—leave me. ❜
in the end, he begs.
for @dionidai ♡
