The Witch's servant (1/3?)
I'm finally back! I've finally finished the first part of a (probably) 3 part story I thought of. I wanted to make a one-off to get back into writing but the best I could do was a 3 parter. I hope you enjoy! criticism is appreciated!
CW: Angst, fearplay, body parts stored in jars for potions, cat attack, threats, technically kidnapping.
________________________________________________________________
The witch loomed over the broken glass and liquid on the floor of her shop. Her eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the room. She glared downwards at a small humanoid figure at her boots, no more than 4 inches tall, soaked in the purple liquid that was once stored in the bottle that lay broken on the ground. The tiny person held their head, confused, before slowly looking upward at the massive witch towering before them. They let out a yelp before trying to run, struggling to get on their feet due to the liquid on the ground. The witch bent down and grabbed the intruder, holding them in a tight, restraining grip before bringing them up to her face.
“It seems a little thief has broken into my shop,” the witch said, coldly. Her grip tightened over the shrunken intruder, causing them to strain a bit.
“Pl-please! I’m sorry,” the thief said, forced to face the witches' frowning face with her glowing yellow eyes. “It…it's not what it looks like…”
“It looks like you were attempting to steal my wares, and you accidentally spilled a shrinking potion on yourself. Am I wrong?” the witch asked.
“Pathetic. Truly pathetic.” the witch said, interrupting the thief whose life was in her fist. “How often do you think a fool who wrongs a magic user ends up cursing themselves instead of the magic user cursing them as punishment? I don’t even know what to do with you now…” the witches grip tightened again. The thief panicked.
“I-I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! I didn’t want to! Please don’t hurt me, Please. I don’t want to die!” the thief pleaded for his life.
“People who don’t want to die usually know better than to steal from witches!” the witch exclaimed, causing the thief to jump at her sudden raise in voice. “That was the only shrinking potion I had. Do you know how rare and expensive the ingredients to size changing potions are? I don’t even have a growth potion, so I couldn’t change you back if I wanted to!”
“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I…I didn’t even know what it was…” the thief said, tears in his eyes. “I didn’t want to do this, I-”
“I don’t care what your reasons are. You are going to stay here until you pay off the price of the damage you’ve caused. That includes the shrinking potion, and the price of a growth potion, if I decide to change you back. Do you understand?” the witch asked, staring daggers at the human trying not to cry in her hand.
“y-yes…I-I understand, just…please don’t hurt me ... .please…I’m sorry…” the thief said, closing their eyes in fear. The witch stared at him for a second before sighing and carrying him somewhere. She went to an empty bird cage that hung near the back of the shop, and dropped him inside. The thief fell against the hard metal floor of the cage, landing on his arm. He looked up at the witch through the bars, who was still looking at him cold and angry.
“You're pathetic.” the witch said. Before walking away to whatever room she was in before the thief was caught. The shrunken human laid on the cold metal floor of the cage, hugging his legs as he started to cry himself to sleep.
The sun rose the next morning, light came in through the windows of the shop and seeped through the bottles stored on the shelves and tables everywhere. The captured thief woke up to the feeling of heat hitting his skin. It felt nice, having spent all night on the cold metal floor of the cage. He stood up, yawning and rubbing his head. He looked down, remembering the night before and what had happened to him. He looked at himself, at how much smaller he was now. He didn’t feel any different at that moment, though he remembered feeling sore and tingly the night before. He looked past the bars of the cage he was in at the witches shop. He hadn’t gotten too good of a look at it before since it was so dark.there were small round windows that let light in and tall shelves against the wall lined with potions. There were tables with bottles organized on them as well, with labeling in front of the potions for the customers. The one he had bumped into still had broken glass under it from when he broke the shrinking potion. He sighed and put his head on his knees. He sat there in sadness for a minute or two, before he flinched to the sound of footsteps coming from the back room.
The witch stepped into the front room of the shop, glaring at the bird cage her tiny captive was in. The thief saw her clearly for the first time out of the darkness. She was pale, with pasty smooth skin and black, almost greyish long hair. Her eyes were yellow, though no longer seemed to glow out of the dark. She had a dark gown with buttons and a long skirt and sleeves. She wore a hat with a tip which pointed downwards over a large brim, which kept her face still covered in shadow. She approached the cage with a neutral expression.
“Good morning, thief.” she said in the same calmly cruel tone she had the night before. “How was your rest?” she asked, sarcastically.
“Shut it.” the witch said, not letting him finish. “First things first, what is your name, thief? I need to know what to call you,” she asked,
“....my name…?” the shrunken thief said, pointing to himself, “Devon…my names Devon,”
“Devon,” the witch repeated the name back to her captive with a level of spite. “Today is the first day you will be working off your debt. You will remain here acting as my assistant until you have paid off the price of the damages you have done. Thats…” she looked down and opened a pricing book, “300 sovereigns for the shrinking potion you knocked over, and 700 for the growth potion, if I choose to turn you back,” she said, putting the book down on a nearby table. “That's 500 for the potion itself and 200 for the gathering of ingredients and brewing labor. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes. Yes ma’am…” Devon said quickly, not wanting to anger the witch any further.
“Hmph,” the witch said to herself, undoing the latch on the bird cage and reaching her hand inside. Devon backed away a bit before being suddenly grabbed without permission by the witch. She held him tightly in her fist again, not so much to the point where it was painful, but where it was still uncomfortable for Devon. He tried not to squirm so the witch would be frustrated at him. He looked down at the floor, which was stories below him from his perspective. He shook in fear, both from fear of falling and of the witch. The witch didn’t acknowledge his fear. She brought him to the back room where she stayed and dropped him onto a table that was littered with ingredients. Devon only fell a few inches, or a few feet from his perspective, but the sudden drop was still shocking to him.
“Devon,” the witch said, causing him to quickly look up at her. “As my assistant, you will have to get me ingredients while I’m brewing my potions. Everything on this table should be labeled. Memorize them.” the witch said coldly before walking away. “I am going to clean up the mess you made last night. Try to leave, try anything, and you will regret it.” she said, grabbing a broom by the doorway and walking out.
“Y-yes ma’am,” Devon said as the witch left, “th-thank you…ma’am….” he said before sighing after she left. He left some relief not being in her massive presence. He turned towards the potion ingredients behind him. They were in jars, bowls, bottles and other containers. Some of them were animal parts, some were bits of plants plucked off or grounded up. Some were wet, some were dry. Some seemed like cooking spices, others Devon had never seen or heard of before.
Well, I definitely won’t be able to escape from here any time soon… Devon thought to himself, might as well do what she says and hope this witch has some mercy on me,
He began walking around the table, reading the names of the jars and containers of ingredients and trying to remember their looks. Some were easy, apple seeds, lizard skin, daisy petals, pepper, literally just kitchen seasoning pepper. Some were more off putting to Devon, like cursed plants that seemed to glow, or ooze that smelled bad, small animal bones, or any human parts that were there. There was a jar of hair, a tiny bottle labeled “tears of the innocent,” a storage container of blood that Devon really hoped was either donated to the witch with consent, and a large jar filled with water and eyes. It didn’t say what species or who the eyes were, they were just eyes. Eyes floating in liquid, varying in size and color. Some of the eyes were the size of Devon's head. Some were bigger. Devon couldn’t help but stare at the eye jar, despite being disturbed by it. It seemed like the eyes in it were looking at him, or at the very least were facing him. It was weird. He stared at the eyes until he heard a sound from somewhere off the table. He looked at the door the witch left through. She hadn’t come back yet, so it wasn’t her. The sound was light, barely noticeable. Devon kept walking around the table. He tried focusing on the potion ingredients and the labels, trying to memorize them. He knew if he didn’t, the witch would be upset with him, and gods only know what she would do. But as he kept roaming the table, reading labels and repulsing at the sight of what was in the jars, Devon kept hearing the slightest movement around him. He kept turning his head trying to see whatever it was, but he never saw it. He tried ignoring it,
It's probably just my thoughts playing tricks on me from the stress of everything, he thought. He took a deep breath as everything seemed silent again. Relaxed, he turned his head.
A black cat came out of nowhere, pouncing on the shrunken human. Devon screamed as he was knocked backwards by the cat's paws and pinned to the ground. It was extremely fast and overwhelming. The cat hissed more, showing its sharp teeth to the tiny that was trapped under it. Devon squirmed in between the cat's claws, desperately trying to get free as its sharp teeth got closer to his face. He closed his eyes and braced himself to be eaten.
“Klaus, No!” a voice spoke out from above. It was the witch, stepping into the room with a shocked expression as she stepped towards the animal. The cat let go of Devon just as the Witch picked him up by his scruff, tossing him aside to scold.
“You are not to touch this human without my expressed word to do so! He is my captive!” the witch yelled at her pet as it hung its head low in shame. “If you are to lay a scratch on him, you will be no more than a stray to me! Do you understand?”
The cat whined and ran off. Meanwhile Devon cowered, looking up at the witch which was yelling over him. Her voice boomed in his lungs and rang in his ears. She seemed more angry at the cat for harming him than she did towards him the night before. After verbally assaulting her pet, The witch then turned her attention towards Devon, the tiny thief that cowered at her feet, covered in sweat and cat spit and such. She glared down at him before bending down towards her shrunken captive, still looming far above him. Devon had a pit in his lungs as the witch looked down at him, but her expression seemed different now. Worried, sorry even.
“Devon…did my wretched Klaus hurt you? Are you bleeding anywhere?” The witch asked with genuine concern. Devon didn’t know what to make of it, if it was the witch playing a trick on him or his own mind. Still , he answered anyway.
“n-no…I- I’m okay,” he said, sitting up and trying to catch his breath.
“You’re sure? No wounds, no bite marks, no bumps or bone breakage?” the witch asked, carefully examining the tiny before her.
“No, none that I can tell,” Devon said, looking down.
“Good.” the witch said with a sigh of relief as she closed her eyes. When she opened them, her face seemed to return to the state of stern indifference she had before. Devon swallowed the saliva in his mouth.
“Um…” the thief rubbed the back of his neck, “thank you…for saving me from your cat,”
The witch looked down at Devon once more, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. Something fell in Devon's stomach.
“There is no need to thank me, small thing. I’m simply protecting my property.” The witch said starkly, before lowering her hand over the tiny and picking him up. Devon didn't squirm or try to escape. Her grip was tight, but not painful. Her hand was warm, but also imprisoning. She stood up with her thief in her hand, holding her to her stern face, before her yellow eyes. “For as long as you are in my debt, no harm will come to you.” the witch said, “...except from my hand. Do you understand?” she asked.
“Y-yes…yes ma’am,” Devon answered, intimidated.
“Good.” the witch said, her expression lightening just a bit. “You will be safe, as long as you belong to me, my assistant.”
