Burning my skin won't kill the witch

The collar was ice cold against Mianu’s throat, burning into his skin, cutting off his breath. Yet his body forced him to breathe. Her curse forced his hand to raise. Pain lanced down his arm as his magic leapt to life at her command. 

It was like he was trapped inside a stone prison. He felt so small, so feeble, a tiny figure pounding against his own skull with bare fists in a vain attempt to break free. He couldn’t even see. He could hardly hear. The world was reduced to a blur of dense, shadowy fog. Only Elore’s voice rang clear. And even then, he was only allowed to hear what she wanted him to hear. 

He would have screamed in pure frustration if he could get his jaw working. 

But when his magic crackled along his arm, the world got a little clearer. 

He knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that there was someone else out there. Someone that Elore wanted to hurt. 

And she was about to use Mianu to do it. 

No! Mianu tried to scream out, his mind roaring where his voice was silenced. No, no, NO, you can’t make me do this! I won’t go back! I will not be your pawn again! 

The more he fought, the more his magic burned. And the pain brought him back, inch by inch. 

His heart pounded once. Twice. And that was enough for him to see exactly who he was being forced to turn against. 

Darius. 

Oh, gods... 

His heart may have stopped beating right then and there. But in that moment, Mianu wouldn’t have cared. Darius was in danger. And it was his fault. Darius must have heard about what had happened. And then he must have acted like the wonderful, bullheaded idiot that he was, and gotten himself caught by the soldiers that Elore now controlled. The same soldiers that should have been under Mianu’s command. 

And now he was here. About to be killed by Mianu’s own hand. 

He couldn’t allow that to happen. 

He would not let Darius fall. 

But there was no way for him to stop his own spell. He’d been fighting against Elore’s power for so long without any real cracks in the stupid curse... 

Except for one. 

A tiny spark of hope burned in his chest, chasing away a little more of the curse that kept him trapped in his own body. 

If his magic was being torn out of him anyway... then he may as well put it to good use.

Elore’s command rang through his mind. 

Destroy him...

Well. Something would be destroyed, most likely.

For the first time since Elore snared that collar around his neck, Mianu took a deep breath of his own accord. His magic still surged through him, spears of ice as deadly and cold as that blasted collar itself. It seared down his arm. Dug into his chest. That very same breath felt like ice. 

Then he let it out. All of it. 

Darkness slammed around him. Someone was screaming. It might have been him. It might have just been the sound of his own magic as his shadows ripped free. He didn’t dare hope that the screams were Elore. He prayed they weren’t from Darius. 

Wind tore at him, ripping through his hair, cutting through his clothing. The screaming went on, and on, until his very thoughts became nothing but screams... 

Then there was silence. 

It seemed to stretch on forever. Mianu honestly wouldn’t have cared if it did. As long as it meant Elore was gone. As long as it meant that Darius was--

“Mianu...?” 

Mianu would have sobbed in relief if he had the strength. 

He’d know Darius’ voice anywhere. Even in the void left after... whatever he had managed to accomplish. 

He’d never drained himself this much before. He was dimly surprised he hadn’t passed out yet. Maybe he had, and he’d just missed it. 

“Mianu... you overdid it again.” 

A warm hand rested on his shoulder. And the world shifted, spinning around him, until he was completely enveloped in that warmth. Darius whispered something. Something that Mianu probably wasn’t meant to hear. 

It must have been very bad if Darius was swearing. 

But gods, Mianu just felt so relieved that Darius was alive. He could swear as much as he wanted. 

“You really need to stop pushing yourself like that,” Darius said gently. “If you do something like this again--” 

And despite all of his exhaustion, Mianu managed to find his voice. Barely. 

“Needed... save you.” 

He could hardly form the words. They were likely more feeble than a whisper. But Darius made that noise he always made whenever Mianu had done something monumentally stupid, and that was worth all the effort. 

“I know,” Darius said softly. “And I’ll tell you all about how much of an idiot you are for that later. But first, I’m going to tell you I’m very proud of how strong you are. And then I’m going to make sure you actually come back to me.” 

Back...

Irrational panic seized Mianu’s heart. “Don’t want to... go back... not her... never again...” 

“Ah... no, that’s not what I meant,” Darius said quickly. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything like that happen again. That’s my job, after all. And my honor. Because I love you, and watching you tear yourself apart will never be fun. Or good for our health. So come on.” 

The world shifted again. But everything was still warm. Because Darius was still holding him. 

“Let’s get you somewhere safe,” Darius said gently.

Hayden just wished that the hastily-scrawled map he was following hadn’t led to the dungeons beneath the abandoned Colosseum, the darkest stain on their city’s history. What treasure would be worth going all the way down here? 

At least Robyn had probably disabled any traps or pitfalls that might have been in the way. Or she’d fallen right into them. 

That thought made Hayden run faster. 

“Robyn?” he called, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. “I’m here! Where are you? Where’d you go?” 

Nothing. No response. 

Hayden’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. 

He kept searching. Kept calling her name. But no matter what he tried, everything remained eerily silent. His own footsteps echoed across the frustratingly-narrow tunnels that wove from cell to cell, his own calls bounced uselessly back at him. Until, at last, he spotted a hint of light. 

Robyn had to be over there. Hayden felt like he had searched everywhere else, and he didn’t want to linger down here any longer than he needed to. 

Hayden raced towards the light. And he found, of course, another cell, barely lit by a single torch on the wall. And inside...

“Robyn!” Hayden shouted. 

Robyn sat in the middle of the cell, her arms shackled behind her back. Her head was hanging low. Her bangs flopped in front of her eyes. She was curled in on herself, sitting back awkwardly on her heels. 

Hayden didn’t waste much more time trying to look at her. His sister was trapped, in trouble, and by the gods he was going to get her out. He didn’t even care what she had done to get herself in this predicament. 

He was by her side almost before he’d realized he’d moved. 

“Robyn, what happened? Are you hurt?” 

All the words left him in a desperate rush. And for a single, horrible moment, Robyn didn’t respond. Hayden feared he was too late. 

Then Robyn lifted her head up. Hayden's heart lurched. She was definitely hurt. Her face was badly bruised. Her lip was split and bloodied. And the gag-- she was gagged, what kind of monster would do that?-- was probably just making things a lot worse. Her sleeves were torn in several places, and though her dark clothing usually didn’t show stains, the coppery spots around those rips were unmistakable. And now that he was looking closer, Hayden didn’t like the way that her legs were twisted under her. 

Hayden bristled with fury. “Who did this to you?” 

Robyn glared at him. Which, honestly, he should have expected at this point. Especially since he hadn’t attempted to set her free yet. 

“Right, sorry, get you out of here first,” he said quickly.

Robyn shook her head. She pulled back, her glare growing harsher. Her body flinched at the movement, though her furious expression masked her pain. 

Hayden’s blood went cold with guilt. “Robyn, let me help you. I know this is embarrassing, but--” 

Robyn very pointedly rolled her eyes. And then she made muffled sounds, clearly trying to tell him something. Probably that he was being an idiot. That was her usual track of conversation when things got bad. 

Hayden huffed out a sigh. “Look, I promise I won’t tell anyone you got into this mess, okay? Just let me help you.” 

He reached for her gag. At least that would be a good place to start. He also had no idea how to get her unchained, but he could figure that out later.  

Robyn kept spouting out muffled complaints, even as she finally allowed Hayden to do something to help. It felt like it took ages to actually get the knot undone. This stupid gag was on tight. 

It was infuriating. Disturbing. He was going to make whoever was responsible for this face justice, that much was certain. 

“There,” Hayden sighed when the gag finally slipped free. “And you’re welcome. Now we just need to--” 

Robyn let out a ragged cough. Then: 

“You idiot!” she growled. “I was trying to tell you to run!” 

Hayden froze, staring in shock. “Wha-- but I--” 

“Did you really think I would just let myself get stuck down in this hellhole, and beaten to a pulp besides, and then tell you about it?” Robyn snapped. 

Hayden blinked. That... was actually a good point. 

He didn’t get the chance to dwell on it. There was a sudden rush of wind. The tingle of magic. And then the torch went out. 

Hayden swore. His hand went to his sword again. He leaped to his feet and whirled around, squinting in the sudden dark... and then he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut as the light flared back to life, far brighter than before. 

When he finally opened his eyes again, the cell wasn’t empty anymore. 

They were completely surrounded. At least a dozen people lined the walls of the cell, circling Hayden. He shifted, putting himself protectively in front of his sister. As if he could do anything against an entire army. And they were all clearly magic-users. A rush of whispers filled the room as each one started the words of a spell. 

As if that wasn’t a clear enough hint, all of them were wearing robes. Robes with a very specific insignia on the chest, just above where their hearts would have been if they had hearts. 

He’d walked right into a Cult trap. 

The leader sneered at him, practically glowing with triumph. “Well, well. Looks like our little game is over. At long last.” 

“Oh my gods, you cannot still be going with that line!” Robyn growled. 

At least her pride hadn’t taken too much of a hit. 

Hayden’s sword almost sang as he drew it. He aimed it right at the leader. 

“You really think that cowards like you actually stand a chance against us?” Hayden said with as much bravado as he could muster. “Hiding in the shadows, using tricks and traps... disgraceful.” 

“Hiding behind an invisibility spell, actually,” the leader said casually. He raised his hand, dark magic already lacing down his arm. “Now... are you going to come quietly? Or are we going to need to be a bit... less reasonable about things?” 

They didn’t even give Hayden the chance of a response. Before he could say a word, one of the cultists slammed the cell door shut. The leader laughed. 

“Nowhere to run, little hero,” he jeered. “So? What’s your choice?” 

There wasn’t a choice. Not with Robyn’s safety on the line. Hayden had no doubt that, as soon as they had done what they wanted with him, they were going to kill Robyn. Just to get rid of any loose ends. 

Hayden would not allow that to happen. 

So he shifted his stance. He raised his blade in an obvious challenge. 

The Cult leader just grinned.

“Very well,” he hissed. “Time for a new game, then.” He snapped his fingers. “Get him.” 

A dozen spells fired off at once. Hayden stood his ground. He didn’t care what happened to him. He was going to protect his little sister. 

“Really, now? A group of the realm’s most powerful mercenaries, and you can’t even handle one little girl?” 

Everyone went still. Except for Robyn. She used the opportunity to redouble her efforts. And she almost made it. She almost broke free. But her captors wouldn’t stay distracted for long, not even with their boss walking in. One of them snared their arm around her neck, forcing her to go still or strangle herself. 

Not that their boss seemed to care. 

“You are all well aware that we are on a tight schedule,” the boss snapped. “We have no time for these foolish little games--”

It was the perfect setup for a little quip. Robyn couldn’t possibly resist. It was part of the fun of being a master thief, after all. So she hit the boss with her best, slyest, most confident grin. 

“Aw, someone getting bored?” she jeered. “I know I had so much fun playing tag with your little goons. Did you want a turn? Tell you what, I’ll even give you a head st--” 

She didn’t see it happen. She didn’t see the leader move. She just felt the pain. A ragged cough was forced from her lungs, her words immediately killed. Her knees buckled and she collapsed, curling in on herself. The mercs who had been holding her back were now very much holding her up. 

The second Robyn had enough air for her mind to catch up with what had happened, she internally cursed herself. How had she gotten so pathetic? It had been a long time since she’d been punched in the gut, sure, but since when had that been enough to take her down? 

“I have no time for your comedy act, either,” the boss said coldly. “I’m sure our little message has been found by now. We must put everything into place.” 

Robyn lifted her head. She refused to show any further weakness.

“A message, huh?” Gods, she hated that her voice trembled, even if it was only slightly. “If you’re after a ransom or a reward or something, you’re never gonna get it. Nobody would actually pay for my safety. And the wanted posters always over-exaggerate the--”

“If we were looking for reward money, you would have been dead by now,” the boss said casually. 

And once again, all of Robyn’s bravado was instantly killed. But she didn’t dare ask for any kind of clarity. That would just show how much of a failure she really was. 

Her unspoken question was answered anyway. 

“No, we’re looking for someone else,” the boss went on. “Someone much more important than you.”

Then he turned his back on her. And as he moved, Robyn caught the barest flash of gold on his uniform. A sigil. A very familiar sigil. 

That was the symbol of the very same order that her brother, Hayden, had been trying to stop for years. 

Robyn’s eyes widened in horrible realization. Whatever plans they had for Hayden, they would not be good.

“No...” the words felt torn out of her. “No! You can’t do this to him, I won’t let you, I’m gonna--”

“Ugh, will you shut her up already?” the boss snapped. “And get her into position. Before she wastes even more of our time.”  

Robyn tried to scramble after him, her boots scraping uselessly against the ground. She tried to cry out again. But something was snared around her head, cutting into the corners of her mouth-- a rope? They were gagging her with a gods-damned rope?-- painfully forcing her head back. 

But whatever pain she felt, whatever terrible position they were about to put her in, was nothing compared to what they were about to do to her brother. 

                “Wait— shit. Tris— fuck. That’s not what I meant.”

                "I know…” Tristan muttered, but by the tone of his voice Darius could tell that he was wounded.

                “I just— I didn't— ah….” Darius’ brain was short circuiting, running through ways to make things right again with his best friend.

                Tristan took a nibble of cookie. “Trust me, he bothers me enough when he does call…”

                The couch cushions should have swallowed Darius into the abyss. It was actually cruel that they remained soft, solid objects beneath him instead of granting him the mercy of letting him disappear.

                Those calls from prison were never easy on Tristan, even when the conversations between him and his father didn’t get heated. They were making strides on working through their issues and trying to patch up their relationship, but that road was rocky and progress wasn’t linear. How could Darius have forgotten, even momentarily?

                In comparison, a well-meaning, supportive phone call from Mr. Astor telling his son to keep striving for excellence was something to treasure and be thankful for. Darius felt awful.

                “I'm sorry, Tris. I know it's tough. He's trying... Your dad cares about you.” Darius believed that to be true, but did Tristan? It was difficult to tell on the nights when his face would be red with emotion after he’d just hung up the phone.

                Tristan sighed and sat in silence for a few seconds, his features hard.

                “Yeah… I know he is... I know he does..." perhaps unconsciously, his free hand clenched into a fist. "Stupid fucking idiot...”

                Darius opened his mouth to try to further cover his blunder but couldn’t find the words.  He felt himself trembling. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He didn’t like upsetting any of his friends, but Tristan? He never wanted to lose Tristan. Hurting Tristan—even accidentally—cut him to his very core.  

                Tristan’s eyes slipped shut and he exhaled sharply through his nose, taking a moment to collect himself. Once he had calmed down, he reached for the second cookie on the table and picked it up, then turned to Darius and held it out to him. A small peace offering to show that there were no hard feelings.

                Darius was still too embarrassed to speak, lest he further put his foot into his mouth. He took the cookie and tipped his head in thanks, his cheeks flushed pink.

                “Don’t take your family’s love and functionality for granted, okay?” Tristan instructed sternly.

                Darius nodded sheepishly.

                “I guess there are worse things in the world…”

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“We Are TroubleD” Masterpost | Deedoo's Whumpmas in July 2026 participation master list

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@whumpmasinjuly-archive

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@gala1981, @melpomenelamusa, @phoenixpromptsandstuff, @risahraun, @generic-whumperz,

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@whump-and-other-things

But, of course, Sibling only scoffed. He bundled his cloak closer to himself. “It’s probably just a rock.”

“Right, a rock that just so happens to be moving,” Caretaker said sarcastically. 

The dark shape was shifting, lifting itself up ever so slightly. Small trails of snow slid off of it. 

“Okay, fine, it’s some unfortunate animal, then,” Sibling grumbled. “Now come on. We have to get home before the snow gets-- hey!” 

Caretaker was already running over to the shivering form. She moved as quickly as possible, ignoring the snow seeping into her boots. That discomfort was nothing compared to whatever this poor soul must have been going through.

Caretaker had heard too many stories. Seen too many families torn apart. Animal or not, no one deserved a fate like that. 

The form shuddered again as Caretaker got closer. Caretaker crouched carefully, making sure she wasn’t just dropping into the snow and putting herself in greater danger. At least she was close enough to reach out to the figure. Her hand brushed against what she had assumed was a fur cloak... only to find feathers. 

Strange. She’d never heard of anyone wearing a feather cloak before. 

A soft, shuddering groan, almost too soft to be heard under all the wind, snapped Caretaker’s attention back to the matter at hand. 

“It’s alright,” Caretaker said softly. “I’m here to help. Can you hear me?” 

The figure hardly seemed in any state to answer. With another pained whisper, they pushed themself up. And what Caretaker had thought was a feathered cloak unfurled into an enormous, crumpled pair of wings. 

They were clearly damaged. One wing twisted in an awful way, all feathers utterly unkept, stained crimson in more places than Caretaker liked to think about. The other was folded carefully, feathers utterly ruffled. Caretaker’s breath caught at the state of them. 

Sibling swore behind her. “Caretaker, get back!” 

But Caretaker only reached out again, trying to help the creature into something closer to a seated position. The figure flinched back with a gasp. And their head lifted, turning to her, eyes wide in panic. 

It was a human... except for the wings, and the odd shape of their eyes, and the feathers in their hair. And when they swiped out at Caretaker in fear, their hands weren’t hands at all, but a bird’s talons. 

Caretaker didn’t care about any of that. They were in trouble. They were hurt.

And they couldn’t have been more than twelve years old. 

“Gods-- Caretaker, get away from that thing!” Brother shouted. 

Caretaker glared at him over her shoulder. “They’re not a thing. They’re just a kid!” 

“A kid?” Sibling spluttered. “That is not a child, that’s a-- that’s a monster!” 

The bird-child flinched. Caretaker glared at Sibling again. 

“I should call you a monster, after what a jerk you’ve been all day,” she snapped. “They’re hurt. It doesn’t matter if they have wings or not, they’re going to freeze out here if we don’t help!” 

The bird-child’s head lifted up just a bit. Caretaker turned back to them and tried to give them a reassuring smile. It seemed like they could understand her, which was a good start. 

Sibling scoffed. “You can’t expect to just take them home, can you? What will everyone say? What will they do when you waltz right back into town with a--” 

“They’ll deal with it,” Caretaker said firmly. She offered her hand to the child again. “Here. Let us help you. Do you think you can walk? I’m sure flying is a terrible idea right now...” 

The child’s wings ruffled, and they immediately winced. They curled further in on themself. Just for a moment. Then they put their trust in Caretaker. They took her hand. 

Caretaker’s smile widened. “That’s it. Up we go.” 

She did her best to get the child balanced on his feet, which were as bird-like as his hands. Sibling watched the pair struggle for a moment. Finally, he rolled his eyes and actually went over to help. He complained the entire way back home, but he still helped. 

No one knew what they would face when they returned, but it would be better than whatever the bird-child had gone through. 

Darius fought against his chains again. His wrists were bleeding. He didn’t let that stop him. He refused to stop fighting, refused to let Elore see the dread that coursed through his veins. 

He would not back down in front of her. Never again. 

“Mianu, don’t listen to her!” he shouted. “You know it’s not true. You know you’re more than that. You don’t need to do anything that she says!” 

His voice was ragged in sheer desperation, cracking with emotion despite all his efforts to remain stern before Elore. But Mianu didn’t say a word. He didn’t react at all. His gaze was harsh and cold, eyes nearly blank as he glared down at his knight. His magic curled around his arm. Wisps of shadow writhed like snakes. Ready to strike. 

Ready to obey.

The golden collar around his throat, melted down from his own crown, must have been more than just a show of power. The manipulation and mind games that Elore had used in the past weren’t enough anymore. Mianu had been freed from her influence... so now Elore had resorted to something new. Something far, far worse. 

Elore smirked. “He cannot hear you, little knight. He belongs to me now. Someone so strong, so powerful, was never meant to waste his days away with someone like you.” 

The words were a sharper blow than any dagger. Darius forced himself to ignore the sting. 

“She’s lying,” he cried. “You don’t belong to her. You don’t belong to anyone. You can break through this, Mianu! Whatever she’s done to you, you’re better than that! You’re better than her! Your magic is--” 

“Strong?” Elore laughed. “Stronger than any you have ever known? How quaint.” 

As Darius writhed fruitlessly against his chains again, Elore took a single step away from Mianu’s too-still form. She tilted her head ever so slightly, regarding Darius with a mild, dismissive curiosity. 

“Why not show off that strength of yours, little prince?” she sneered. Then she snapped her fingers. “Destroy him.” 

Mianu had no choice. 

He finally moved.  

The prince raised a single hand. His magic leapt to his command. Shadows rushed straight for Darius. 

Darius closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact. There was nothing else he could do. He just had to believe that Mianu would snap out of it in time.