A little idea I imagined last night for bannerfall 4c, with non-con slapping and sexual punishment: It starts when Owain gets tired of 4c never taking anything serious. If he insists on acting in such a childish way that may get the kingdom in trouble, then he will get the same treatment way back to him. So, he sits with him, put him in his lap and makes him count while he slaps him.
Nom found them before they can get to forty, forces convince him to stop, "This was not necessary", he says, taking the trembling slime onto his arms, "You have done enough. Get out."
"If you insist on taking his faults onto you, Nominal, then take better responsibility for it."
It is a memory Nom has come to remember often, so he is not surprised when it comes back. What is new, thought, is that it is not accompanied with guilt, but rather with an anger that pushes him to agree with it. To act in accordance.
It is late when he stops, something ugly and possessive still craving for more when he sees the marks on 4c´s skin. Even back then, when Nom committed the awful error of looking at him and believing him innocent, when he lied to his face told him about what the rogue god did to him, 4c was never one to cry.
He is now, after his apologies became too broken to keep saying them, voice lost between the walls. His mouth is open, drool slipping onto the floor. His throat must be sore, too, and Nom´s cock pulses at the thought of pushing between his lips and making sure he is unable to talk the next day.
Maybe later. Right now, Nom let 4c fall onto the floor fully, let him breath for some minutes while he breaks a part of the floor. The weight in his hands is familiar, comfortable and secure in the way only violence was able to be.
He goes out, taking a moment to breathe the salty air of the ocean. The only thing he tastes is blood.
It takes longer for 4c to leave. Nom was half hoping expecting him to try running away (not like he could go far, he had made sure of it), half thinking he may need to carry him, when he does. And it almost looks like 4c will, once he notices the mace on Nom´s hand, his fear mixing up with the shivering that already dominated his body.
He is satisfied when, instead, he looks up to him once Nom offers his hand, eyes glowing with either hope or tears, and takes it. It is not gentle, more akin to a chain in the way it circles around his wrist, but 4c still leans on it.
There is no cloak around his shoulders, ripped away when Nom had bend him down. Lost to the sea, maybe, like it should have been long ago, along with his own oath.
"You," Nom says, pressing until he is sure it will leave a mark of his hand, "still need to repay for the way you hurt the kingdom, including the tunnels and the gold you took."
4c jumps at the mention, looking down with guilt. Good.
"I can't trust you," he continues, smaller this time, tired. "From now on, you are not allowed to get out of my sight, and much less to talk to any red member without supervision."
Maybe, with time, he could let him under Owain or Scott's vigilance. At least, Nom is happy knowing that for the next week, he can make sure 4c won't be able to hide any more secrets from him again.
He also needs to make sure he did not hide any others during the last year, bare him whole until there is nothing about 4c that Nom doesn't know about. But that can be done tonight, in the darkness of the well where nobody will care to look.
His kingdom still needs a king, after all.
(And when his mace is covered in blood, pressed down in what was the parcel elf´s head, Nom has to fight against a smile when 4c clings to his side, ignoring Graecie´s protests or Mae´s crying.)
(If nothing else, at least he has always been a fast learner.)
