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Note: this is a WIP AU, not cannon. Solace is the god to which Linari prays, who takes particular interest in Tarron after he takes the throne. In this AU, Dubfort never invaded and Tarron’s mother stepped down from the throne.
Solace is the goddess of light and the sun, as well as illusions and lies.
Content Warnings: transgender male whumpee, religious whump, god/divine whumper, female whumper, abandonment, self-sacrifice, left for dead trope, hurt/no comfort, creepy whumper, illusions/unreality used to manipulate whumpee, cliffhanger ending, fake death
The palace was burning. It was like an anthill under a magnifying glass. Tarron hadn’t stayed in the upper levels that night, too absorbed into his work and falling asleep in his study. He was ripped awake by the stinging heat against his face. Nym was asleep behind him, unaware of the peril. He shook them awake, frantically dragging them to their feet and towards the door. A beam of blazing wood fell from above as the monarchs raced down the hall. When they finally reached the large doors to the main courtyard, Tarron rushed into the chilly night air.
As he turned to look for Nym, he saw they had fallen before reaching the door.
He rushed back to their side, desperately attempting to help them up, only to be hit by a falling beam as they stood.
“Fuck—fuck, hold on, please—“
“Don’t. Please—please go.” Tarron croaked out, voice hoarse from the thick smoke.
“Tarron—“
“I love you.” He whispered, and kicked out at the doors to slam them shut in their face.
Just as the flames collapsed on him, the entire room faded away.
Tarron looked around desperately, searching for some explanation. He wasn’t in his study at all, or his bedroom. Rather, he was chained by the wrists in a grand throne room. It appeared to be built out of marble and pale gold, the throne itself the only real furniture other than the bronze brazers keeping the room illuminated with a shimmering pale light. Not fire.
The figure atop the throne seemed vaguely familiar. Their long, pale blonde hair seemed to shift in color as they moved. They smiled at him, sharp white fangs glistening in the bright light.
🎃- does whumper ever do fun activities with you? When they do, do you have fun?
He looks away, fidgeting for a moment before replying, “Sometimes Master takes me to parties. I don’t like it. People just stare at me and try and touch me.” He blushes a bit before adding, “I don’t mind when he parades me around though. It’s… humiliating, but I guess I can hope that it lets Nym and their rebellion know I’m alive. I think it’s the only reason Master had kept me around.”
🤡- does whimper pull tricks on you? What’s the meanest they’ve done?
He nods. “I—he likes to trip me while I’m carrying things. Once he did it and I was carrying some red wine, I spilled it all over Sir Conner’s suit and he whipped me for it.” he pauses and considers some of Rupert’s “jokes”. “Um… one time he… he made me drink some tea that he had put a fake poison pill in. He-he said it was poison, but it was a s-sedative. I… I thought I was gonna die.” His hands shake as he signs, clearly upset at recalling the event. “It was at a dinner party, he used it to show off how obedient I was.”
Rupert:
🎭- do you lie to whumpee or caretaker or put on a false persona around them?
He shrugs. “I have to lie sometimes. If I let out any military plans or something and then he managed to escape it’d be disastrous.” He pauses. “And as for the pesky elf, I pretend they’re less of a threat than they are. If their pathetic rebellion found out that I was… concerned, they would get cocky.”
⚰️- if whumpee died, how would you react?
He takes a sip of his tea. “Hm. I don’t particularly care about Honey. But… he’s a useful tool to keep other kingdoms in line. An example.” He ponders. “Honestly, I couldn’t care less about him on a personal level. But it’d be an inconvenience.”
✨List of shit y’all don’t know about my ocs but should lmao✨
Tarron
Tarron has an unidentified chronic illness, it basically flares up every few months and leaves him out of commission with a fever
Tarron is autistic and ADHD and has a huge hyper fixation on bees
He owns about 1,000,000 plushies, all have names and they are his CHILDREN
Don’t mention it enough but he’s trans!!!
He’s biromantic demisexual, leans towards men/masc presenting people
He’s been with Nym for like 3 years at the beginning of the story
He was actually a huge nerd lol, he speaks 3 languages and is a history buff
Kinda awkward with new people but he’s also like. Legitimately a ray of sunshine so he makes friends easy
Nym
They’re also autistic and have a special interest in herbal medicine and magick!
There is a low-poly mushroom graphic rotating in their brain 24/7 lmao
They bought Tarron and themself those matching plague doc plushies
They’re intersex and nonbinary, the best part of meeting new people for them is the “hello… sir???? Ma’am???????? Uhhhhhh?????” Until they finally just go “captain actually”
They’re a captain of the royal guard!!!!!
They have 2 younger siblings, Linari and Rona
They were planning on proposing the day they got back from a “festival” in their village when Rupert’s army struck, the “festival” was actually proposal prep and some standard religious celebrations!
They’ll do anything to protect the people they care about, so Rupert and Lucia are in for a Bad Time :)))))))
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This is like. Mostly an attempt to go more in-depth with side characters. But enjoy. For reference, Lucia is Rupert’s little sister and recently married to Virgil. And Basil’s real name is Linari, they’re Nym’s younger sibling.
Tw: Deaf whumpee, brief ableism mention, nonhuman whumpees, nonbinary whumpee, male whumpees, female whumper, male whumper, multiple whumpees and two whumpers, cages, conditioned whumpees, fantasy racism mention, defiant whumpee, institutionalized slavery, cursing, dehumanization, idk if there’s a better term but whumpees arguing with each other.
He’d given up. He had been resigned to this life for 7 years. He certainly couldn’t begin resisting now. Virgil had wiped any memory of a home to miss, any fight left in him. So Bastet just… stopped.
He knew it was bad. He wasn’t /broken/. No matter how much Virgil and Lucia thought that, he wasn’t a perfectly loyal pet.
He hated Virgil more than anyone on the earth. But he knew how the world worked. He was a hybrid. A criminal. And deaf. There was no chance for him anywhere else. Even if he got away, he’d end up the pet or slave of some other noble.
So he gave up. Truly, really gave up.
There was no point in fighting it. Not /really/.
So he let Virgil treat him like a toy. It didn’t matter. When he was good, Virgil would feed him and take care of him. The humiliation was tolerable.
But Basil and Poppy sent him for a loop.
The two were polar opposites, Basil a bit older and angrier while Poppy was twenty at most and timid.
Their owner, Lucia, was a familiar face. She’d moved in with Virgil— something Bastet resented— and brought her two pets with her. Basil was an elf, blonde haired and pale and gorgeous. Their eyes glimmered bright blue, with a spark of defiance.
Poppy was practically infatuated with Lucia. He was a golden retriever hybrid, with honey-blond hair and big brown eyes that always seemed fixed on his owner. He never once left her side unless ordered to, genuinely loyal to Lucia.
Bastet couldn’t pretend he didn’t envy Poppy. The boy was constantly getting extra food or comforts, always on his owner’s good side. And he didn’t seem /unhappy/. Bastet almost wished that he could be that perfect, especially since Virgil started to show preference for Poppy.
The two new pets had been given space in Bastet’s room. Basil was supposed to sleep in it’s crate, while Poppy got a plush dog bed and blanket.
Virgil and Lucia got a bit drunk one night, enough that they practically crashed in the master bedroom while leaving their pets to their own devices. Poppy seemed anxious without Lucia’s instructions to guide him.
“B-Basil! Y-you’re supposed to, to sleep in your cage! You, you can’t, can’t break the, the rules!”
“Gods, can’t I fucking /sleep/ without someone on my case?! I’m not gonna sleep in a damn dog crate!”
“M-mistress will be angry!”
“She’s not even here! She doesn’t need to find out, Poppy.”
Bastet huffed, watching the two argue from his little sleeping platform. He hopped down, glaring at both of the pets.
“Will both of you stop?” He signed, giving Basil a sharp look. “Poppy, just go to sleep, I’ll take care of them.”
Basil glared at him as Poppy finally curled up in the little dog bed.
“You need to go to sleep too.”
“Gods, you’re just as bad! Just ‘cause you and Poppy have some sick fucking obsession with those creeps doesn’t mean—“
Bastet huffed angry. “Get into the crate. I don’t give a damn what you want, none of us want the shit beaten out of us.”
Basil raised a brow at that. “…fine. Whatever.” Slowly, they crawled into the small metal box, pulling their knees to their chest. Bastet sighed, grabbing the blanket off his bed and tossing it to them without another word.
Nine months. He was free and safe and recovering for nine months. Devyn and Caz had been so gentle with him, so careful to help and avoid harming him further.
He’d started dancing again as soon as his physical injuries were healed, started going to therapy, done /everything/ he could to put those awful three months in the past and go back to his life.
At the one year mark from when he was kidnapped, he’d refused to leave the house all day, barely speaking and mostly hiding in the bedroom.
“Tanyl?” Caz asked, knocking lightly on the bedroom door.
He opened up, looking down at Caz. “…yes?”
“Hey… are you alright? Devyn is making dinner, do you wanna come down and eat?” Caz said, gently cupping Tanyl’s cheek.
“Yeah…” he slowly followed his boyfriend down the stairs to the kitchen—
And froze in place as he saw Devyn pinned to the floor by a wooden stake through their hand.
Caz screamed, rushing down next to them to help. Devyn, he noticed far to late, was gagged, and couldn’t warn him of the man responsible creeping up behind him with a syringe.
He hit the floor with a sickening thud, and Conner turned and looked at Tanyl.
“Sunny. Kneel.”
He dropped to his knees like a marionette with its strings cut, shaking. “Don’t hurt them…” he mumbled, tears slipping down his cheeks.
Devyn pushed their head up, cursing at Connor.
“Don’t you fucking /dare/ touch him—“
“Quiet.” Connor snapped, kicking them in the jaw. “Sunshine. Did you actually believe I wouldn’t find you?”
“I…” Tanyl whimpered softly.
“Come here.” He ordered, pointing at his feet.
Tanyl began to stand, but flinched as Connor glared at him. “Crawl.” He commanded, tapping his foot impatiently. He sobbed, pushing himself to his hands and knees and crawling over to Connor. “Good pet. Now beg for me to take you back, and I might not kill your idiotic friends.”
He looked over at Devyn and Caz, both now knocked out, crumpled forms on the kitchen floor. He whimpered softly, looking up at Connor.
“…please. Please… master, t-take me back, please, I’ll never leave again, I be so, so good—I, I won’t fight, I’ll do whatever you ask.” He begged, hesitantly leaning forward to kiss Connor’s boots.
Connor grinned, immediately taking the opportunity to kick Tanyl square in the jaw. “Adorable.” He hummed as the boy cried out, cradling the new injury.
“Pl—please. Please, gods, just take me, leave Devyn and Caz out of this, please…” Tanyl continued to grovel, not offering even an ounce of resistance as the man grabbed his hair, yanking him up to his feet and dragging him outside to a waiting car.
His hands and feet were bound behind him with duct tape, another silver strip forced across his mouth to keep a cloth gag in. The sound of his crying was muffled, and nobody seemed to notice him being stuffed into the trunk.
The drive seemed to last hours and seconds all at once, both too long and too short. It was only when Connor dragged him out of the trunk and tossed him to the gravel of a driveway that he was able to focus enough to process the situation.
He squirmed in Connor’s arms, crying and screaming through the gag. But his desperation seemed inconsequential to his captor, who simply dragged him up the stairs to the house.
“You left. You were being /so/ good, and then you ran away. Such a shame.” He sighed, shaking his head.
He cried out as Connor tossed him against a wall, in the coat closet that hadn’t held coats in any time Tanyl could remember. Instead, it held every torture device Tanyl could think of.
In addition to the tape restraints, Connor locked the old shock collar back around Tanyl’s throat, giving him a few good shocks before turning to grab a set of noise-cancelling earbuds and a blindfold.
Tanyl sobbed as his ears were plugged and his eyes were covered. Before Connor left, though, he made sure to tie Tanyl to the wall with the same tape, making it impossible to move even an inch.
