Bones

It's not.

You're not an heir but still a part of the royal family.

War looms on the edge of the kingdom and in the tangle of politics to find allies you somehow catch the eye of another land's ruler.

You'd always known you'd probably marry for political reasons, but securing a wartime alliance was much higher stakes than anything you'd imagined.

The wedding is glamorous, but rushed and before you know it the familiar lands around the castle you called home are fading away into the distance.

Your new spouse leaves almost instantly to attend more war talks, leaving you alone in a new environment, surrounded by strangers. One of the advisors pulls you aside, telling you that the alliance hinges on you cooperating.

Things slowly start to change, guards barring you from areas you should have been allowed to visit and servants whispering behind your back.

Worried about possibly putting your family in danger by threatening the alliance you play along.

You say nothing as you are confined to your quarters. It's not the luxury you're used to but at least it's not a dungeon.

You don't protest as some of the guards begin to push you around and the servants bringing you food smugly tell you about how cruel your spouse can be when displeased.

You make up lies in your letters home, making it sound like you're having a great time in your new prison home.

Months pass and they finally return home, the war over.

You sit in your quarters, anxiously awaiting someone you believe will be far worse than all the others.

Yet, when their eyes catch on the bruises under the makeup the servants had smeared across your skin less than an hour before their eyes darken.

"Who did this to you?"

One squirming uncomfortably, face averted, wishing to be anywhere else but not daring to draw too much attention to themselves.

One straining to break free, eyes narrowed, maybe even teeth bared and ready to snap at whoever comes close.

One thrashing desperately, caught in mindless panic.

One limp with exhaustion, held upright only by the restraints but nonetheless glaring when their head is lifted.

One stiff and still, anxiousness still in the process of being carefully concealed.

One trying for relaxed, dismissive, complaining of discomfort with forced lightness.

One actually relaxed, waiting patiently for nothing in particular, knowing only that everything is out of their hands and thus no longer their concern.

One who seems barely present at all, unfocused gaze somewhere on the ground, body limp as their mind seeks sanctuary far away.

Something about the hair draping down pushes my buttons

Having the invisible observer hold witness to pain is the point.

hands tied in front of them, on foot while their captors are mounted, sleeping out in the open, forced to beg for adequate food and water

maybe they're barefoot, a captured royal in silken robes

maybe they're in a torn suit or soldier's uniform

maybe they were stripped at the start, increasing the exposure to the elements, the humiliation

-> Collapsing only after they’re finally safe.

-> Dragging themselves to the door... and not making it.

-> Whumpee insisting on finishing the job/mission while actively bleeding.

-> Passing out mid-sentence.

-> Injuries that clearly should’ve been treated hours, even DAYS ago.

-> Feverish delirium where they accidentally tell the truth.

-> Waking up restrained and instantly panicking, — rich with heavy breathing, struggle and darting eyes.

-> Trying to fix their own wound and failing.

-> “I'm okay—” immediately followed by collapse

-> Pain meds wearing off at the worst possible moment

-> Whumpee apologizing for being a burden.

-> Whumpee meeting eyes with Whumper in public. No one understands why the intensity exists... The two of them do.

-> Head down, blood pooling where they’re kneeling.

-> Crawling instead of walking because standing is impossible.

-> Hiding an injury so well it fools everyone… until it doesn’t.