ghost's whump blog

Juno was still curled up in the too-big cloak, dirt covering the hemline and dust from the curiosity shop still clinging to his hair. He needed a bath.

He also needed breakfast.

“Food?” the boy asked. Good, he was already comfortable following orders.

“Yes, Juno, food. Come on.”

He led the boy to the mess tent. Most of everything had been packed away in the early hours before dawn, but a simple savory porridge was waiting for them.

He ladled out a bowl of the grits, scooping up one the last fried eggs to put on top.

“Here you are, Juno.”

Nikolai slipped a spoon into the bowl. There was no way he was going to feed the boy a meal like this one bite at a time.

Luckily, Juno knew what to do with it. Odd little creature.

“Do you know how to ride a horse?”

They didn’t have a spare horse, but a pony would do for him.

Still, he wasn’t surprised when Juno shook his head while engrossed in his breakfast. 

It would be three weeks before they got home to the palace in Volkenia. Part of it, he would make the boy walk. It would be good for him. The rest he could ride in a cart.

He ate slowly as he watched Juno scrape and lick the last remnants of food from his bowl, then stare longingly at the empty dish.

“More?”

Juno’s head shot up, luminous eyes focused intensely at his face.

“You can have more,” Nikolai repeated. “Egg? Porridge?”

He realized that Juno didn’t have a way to indicate between the two options as he said it, but Juno nodded so enthusiastically that he could only have meant both.

A second helping definitely wouldn’t hurt.

___________________

Master was generous with the food. He also let Juno keep wearing the cloak, which he knew actually belonged to Master himself.

He wrapped himself tighter in it as he watched the men and Master pack everything away.

They moved almost in sync, tearing down the tents and wrapping them, tossing the bundles into the carts Juno had been ordered to wait next to.

There were so many of them. More than a dozen.

Were they traders? Wanderers?

‘Sire.’ Hm. People who sold things didn’t get called sire, or at least he didn’t think so.

Juno chewed on his nails, picking at his lip. He didn’t have anything useful to do.

One of the men, a blonde, walked up to him.

“Here.”

He handed Juno a leather pouch topped with a cork. There was liquid inside, and it sloshed subtly. Woosh-glub.

Juno liked the sound.

“It’s water,” the man said. “We’ll stop for more a few times today, so don’t get clever with it. That’s how people pass out.”

He said it slowly and carefully, as if unsure Juno understood. But he did understand, and Juno nodded.

The man walked away. Juno didn’t get his name.

It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be able to say it anyway.

Juno pulled the strap of the waterskin over his head so it would sit comfortably on his hip.

The water shifted inside the leather.

‘Glub,’ he copied aloud to himself. It was a good sound, but it didn’t quite sound right coming from his voicebox.

Now there was something to do.

___________________

Juno tried his best to walk close to the group.

The ponies and horses seemed to walk in step, and the rhythm was nice but not what his feet wanted to do.

Master was right up front.

It was too hard to keep up and trot next to Master and his horse, but Juno didn’t want to lose sight of him. What would happen then? A punishment? Getting lost? Left behind?

Instead, he tried not to be directly behind a rider or cart that might block his view.

Juno was grateful to walk.

The short grass on the side of the roads were ticklish on his feet, and he liked the way his toes left imprints on the little piles of soft dusty-dirt that had settled there.

There were small flowers he could look at, once he was comfortable enough to keep his eyes off of Master for a moment or two.

Little purple flowers with white centers, and sometimes he saw the same flowers but white with purple centers.

He liked the rare ones more. 

And the smells!

The horses were stinky, but the air was so fresh anyway that he didn’t mind. Juno even took off his hood to take in more of it.

Blue sky with white fluffy clouds, flowers he couldn’t name but was learning to match scents to, bird calls he never heard before.

It was all so different, and it didn’t even matter that his legs were aching and the soles of his feet were sore.

Even the farms with plants in those carefully neat rows were pretty. The cow stink was rich and warm; he saw donkeys in the distance and smelled something yummy being smoked for later.

He was outside. And outside was beautiful.

They stopped at a river for more water, and Juno carefully bent down to fill his gifted pouch.

His legs were shaking.

“Juno.”

He jumped, spilling some of his water. Juno flushed, and turned to see Master right behind him.

Master took the cork from his hand, and stopped up his flask.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, head tilting. Juno blinked up at him.

Master glanced down at his feet. “Fill up again, and sit in one of the carts. You need a break.”

Juno bit his lip, but he nodded. He wasn’t sure what he had done wrong. Too slow, maybe?

Still, he did as he was told, tucking his legs underneath him on the wood.

As the hours went by, he watched the farms grow tiny in the distance, and the sky disappear above the trees.

___________________

Nikolai always felt more comfortable in the woods.

He grew up in the forests of Volkenia, the shade and the scent of pine and oak, the pheasants and deer. The cradle of the world, they called it. And it was true. The trees and mountains were ancient. Scholars of the land and great-grandmothers alike agreed.

The woods of Alba Horataea weren’t as old as Volkenia’s. They were thinner and better traveled. Roads, instead of trails, cut through them as a river through the history of a canyon.

They came in patches, as spots on a mountain cat.

Nikolai wasn’t as impressed.

The whole journey would be the same- farms then towns then farms then tiny forest- or at least until Perekrestok.

Perekrestok…

He glanced down at Juno, who was once again obsessed with the stew he had been given. It was his second helping, and Nikolai wondered where it all could have gone in such a small body.

The dancing firelight reflected in the siren's eyes, making them flash like an animal's.

Stellos needed more information on mimics. Their appetites, their aging, how far their voice could travel.

A huge city like Perekrestok would have bookshops in the dozens, and it was conveniently halfway between them and the palace, safely in Voklenia’s borders.

The boy needed a collar and name tag anyway.

Now wasn’t the time to taste. Bread rolls didn’t need tasting before the oven.

He blinked, slowly, as the light made his headache worse. 

The smell of food- butter in the rolls, chopped chocolate melted down for cake, onions sweating on the stove, thyme and pepper on the chicken- all reminded him of hungry hungry hungry.

Dinner parties meant food. Happy guests shared food.

Juno swayed as he transferred the dough to a bowl to let it rise.

He sat heavily on the cool tiled floor. A break. A small break, and he could start on the cake. 

Juno lied back even further, pressing his hot cheek onto the cool floor. It wasn’t a fever. He was just hungry.

Five minutes, just five minutes, and the dizzy would pass.

Master didn’t say who was coming, but with a dinner for eight, there was a good chance someone would be nice.

Maybe he would get to eat some chicken. A bone with overlooked meat. A morsel of crispy skin. Something.

It would be a pleasant change to have some protein.

Gravy. He could make gravy, and he would have to taste it to make sure it was well-seasoned. That way, even if no one wanted to share the chicken, he could imagine and pretend with the few drops of gravy he was allowed.

Five minutes of pleasant daydreams passed him by.

Juno slowly sat up, black spots dancing in his vision.

No matter how shaky his legs, dinner still needed to be made.

___________________

Everything was perfect.

Juno couldn’t see or smell a single flaw in the entire three courses.

The salad was fresh and the dressing chosen carefully. The rolls golden and buttery, the vegetables just the right amount of charred and crunchy, the chicken crisp and juicy, the gravy silky smooth. The cherry and chocolate cake was most likely his best yet.

Master had chosen the wine, of course. He always did.

By the time dinner was on the table and the wine poured, the fuzzy blackness swimming in his vision was permanent. 

Juno knelt at his Master’s feet. He leaned into the chair. 

It was fine.

Cooking a perfect dinner was only half of what Juno needed to do to earn being fed. He needed to be cute. Adorable. Pretty.

Existing on the verge of fainting was cute. So he was allowed to lean.

Master’s hand ruffled his hair. The room tilted on its side, and nearly made him sick.

Juno was an expert on not throwing up. He swallowed the bile. Just a little longer.

“Isn’t he cute?” Master cooed. 

Juno blinked to keep the room from spinning too fast. He heard the almost imperceptible sound of bread tearing. He glanced up.

A hand, an upturned palm from heaven, held a piece of a roll.

Juno ate out of his Master’s hand, like a good boy.

Oh, it was wonderful. He could almost feel the strength pour back into him. 

Half a mouthful of bread, but it was so so satisfying. His eyelashes fluttered, and Master praised him yet again.

Juno crawled around the table, making sure no one felt left out. Everyone got a turn to feed Master’s slave, because it was entertainment.

And only then, after, could Juno pick who to visit.

Juno didn’t recognize all the people in the room, only some. He tried his best to pay attention to who gave what. If they returned, he knew if and what they would share.

Some nights, only Master would feed him. Those were the worst.

Tonight wasn’t much different from the usual.

A bite or two of roasted veg. Some lettuce. Bread was quickly becoming the popular gift. 

He knew Master was keeping track too; watching. If he decided too much of one item was being given away-

It meant it wasn’t good enough for his guests. It meant Juno should be beaten.

Juno moved on to the next guest.

The man across the table and to the right of Master’s seat was unfamiliar. Juno glanced up at his face, sitting up on his ankles.

The stranger’s lips twitched. Good or bad? Unclear. His brown eyes told him nothing.

But to Juno’s surprise, the man offered him a generous bite of chicken.

It was just as delicious as Juno imagined. He closed his eyes, licked the inside of his cheek, savoring it. A perfect scrap of meat.

“Here you are.”

He looked up again. Bread, wet with gravy.

Juno’s mouth watered, and he swallowed before taking the morsel with his lips.

The man kept feeding him, bite by bite. No one had ever fed him so much.

Juno ate and ate. He decided he loved this guest, then dismissed the thought. He only loved his Master. But this man, this stranger, was quickly becoming a close second.

He knew, distantly, he would pay for the kindness later. There was no such thing as a free dinner.

The stranger talked to Master and the other guests above him, but still offered bits and bites and scraps. It must have been half his plate before Master snapped his fingers to call Juno over again.

Master poured wine down his throat, and the bitter alcohol made his eyes water.

He licked the droplets from the corner of his mouth.

“Watch this,” Master laughed. “Juno, go fetch dessert.”

The alcohol worked fast on his small small tummy, and it ached. But Juno was obedient and good, and always always did as he was told.

He stumbled to his feet, face hot from both wine and the sound of laughter. He swayed, fumbling into the kitchen.

Don’t drop the cake. Don’t drop the cake.

Juno set the dessert stand down a little too hard, and the giggling seemed even louder. But the cake had made it to the table, and that was what mattered.

The new man was only person who let him taste chocolate.

___________________

Mr. Derosiers kept coming back. Again and again, and at each dinner party, Juno was fed almost to fullness.

Juno tried not to show his love, and it worked for a while. But he saw the way Mr. Derosiers looked at him, warm and gentle like the palm of his hand and his soft fingertips.

And Master saw it too.

Juno did not belong to Mr. Derosiers. Loving him was bad.

And then last night he left the pie too long, and-

Juno sniffled.

He curled tighter into the dog bed. The morning was cold without clothes; colder because the privilege of asking for dinner last night was also taken away and he was so hungry.

Juno pressed down on one of his bruises. With the pain came some warmth, or maybe it was a trick of his exhaustion.

Master was so angry about the pie, that maybe it wasn’t just about the pie and the wasted blackberries.

His punishment wasn’t over yet. It would be many hours before he would be let out of his kennel. But the kennel also meant ‘no more hurting’ and that was good.

The doorbell rang, and he flinched.

His stomach and muscles protested, soreness rushing over him. 

Juno squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the headache when Master opened the door and more light flooded the room.

If only he hadn’t been so stupid and didn’t burn the beautiful lattice pie- he wouldn’t have such a big headache. He could have had ice cream for the first time in-

He heard Mr. Derosiers’ voice, and his eyes flew open.

It hurt, but Juno kept still. Watching.

He couldn’t hear what they were talking about.

Master’s eyes flicked towards his kennel.

He had been caught looking.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He’d been bad, again.

Juno cried quietly as Master left the room, no doubt to get a belt or the cane again or something worse.

“It’s going to be alright,” Mr. Derosiers said softly. Juno hiccuped. Mr. Deriosers couldn’t know that, he couldn’t.

Master’s footsteps approached his kennel, and icy fear shot through him. He heard the door swing open.

But instead of being dragged from the crate by the hair, he was pinned, and a sharp pain jabbed at the back of his neck.

Juno froze. He turned when it was over, craning his head to see what Master had done to him.

Through his blurry vision, he saw the silver shine of a needle. A syringe, in his Master’s hand.

Wha-

The world dimmed. His tongue went heavy in his mouth.

Juno slumped. His head lolled.

The last thing he saw was a bright white envelope exchanging hands.

“It’s going to be alright.”

Please, he wanted to beg, please, stop! 

Instead, another strike tore a shriek out of him.

His mind blanked white-hot, lungs screaming for breath-

Thump.

Juno sprawled on the hard floor. His head rang and his spine throbbed from the fall. His legs were tangled in the blankets and sheets, and it was only a dream.

Stunned from the tumble, he stared up at the ceiling.

Someone banged on the door, loud and thundering. Juno winced, and regretted it.

“Your Majesty? Are you alright?”

“Fine!” called Master, his voice rough with sleep. “I’m fine! Leave me be, please.”

“Very well, sire.” 

Armored footsteps walked away.

“Juno?” Master peeked over the bed at him, outlined in pale silver by the moon’s glow. “Are you alright? You were screaming.”

Juno threw an arm over his face at the embarrassment. He’d been bad; ruining Master’s sleep just when he needed it most.

But he nodded. He was alright. It was his job to be, especially when Master hadn’t been lately.

How could he do this to Master? He’d already disobeyed him with the advisors, already neglected his duty to care for him, and now he was making Master wake up in the middle of the night.

Bad.

“Juno?”

Juno slowly sat up, and began to untangle himself from the bedclothes.

The last thing he wanted to do was sleep next to Master, but Master always slept better with someone to hold.

Master had kind hands that helped and soothed, not cruel ones that hit, but it was still touch and-

Many bad things- things that hurt- could happen on a bed.

Juno wanted his kennel. Nothing bad happened in his kennel. It kept the world out, like a shell on a clam. He wanted to be safe.

But slaves did not have wants, except their Master’s own desires. And too much freedom was what had gotten him into trouble in the first place.

Master needed his rest.

Juno straightened the blankets on the bed before slipping under the covers and into his proper place. Tucked away, pressed into his Master’s chest, deep beneath the luxurious sheets.

Master Terry smelled of rose soap and sweet musk perfume. 

An arm curled around Juno, and a full-body shiver raced up his spine.

Of course.

But then it was gone, and he relaxed, sinking into the warmth that felt so nice.

He was so stupid. 

Obedience was always the answer. Being good was its own reward, but being good also meant good things would happen to him.

Obey, and nothing bad could happen. Not here. Not with Master Terry.

Juno would be good.

His eyes fluttered shut. 

In the morning, he would remind Master to punish him, because he was a good boy. He was a good boy, and Master had waited until he was healed enough to take it.

And then the guilt of being so bad the past two weeks would go away.

Obedience was always the answer. He just needed to remember that.