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Taking advantage of the inspiration, I took the opportunity to draw these little pictures of Eldwin and Jowan from @inhurtandincomfort 's Forsaken story.
Just a little something I knocked up for Halloween, just Eldwin having a bad time as usual. And also this is what I was thinking of when I made that post about getting new ideas from little oneshots đź‘€
CW: Creepy / intimate whumper, implied/referenced noncon (mostly just because of who this whumper is tbh) noncon touching, dollification
The steel-boned corset dug into his skin, with no protection underneath and tied far too tightly. He could only take in small breaths, though his lungs demanded more he had to breathe slowly, evenly. It shouldn't look like he was breathing it all.
A woman's face in front of him began to blur. His eyes stung, and it took all his effort to keep them from twitching. The moment she looked away he blinked, relief instantly flooding through him partially because he still could. It would be temporary.
"Is it real?"
"They said it was living. Hey," someone snapped their fingers in front of Eldwin's face. "Give us a smile, why don't you?" They smirked, seeming to think they'd said something funny.
How original. False lashes weighed heavy on his eyes. His sewn lips were carefully painted red with a little heart shape, his makeup exaggerated to look like a glass doll. A pastel dress hugged his figure, waist cinched to the point of pain dressed up in frills and laces. His expression remained perfectly blank.
Someone roughly pulled on his hair with enough force that he thought his neck might snap. Still he managed to maintain his elegant pose. Fourth position, like a ballet dance in uncomfortable heels that pinched and left him feeling unsteady. One arm reached above his head, slightly curled, and the other hovering in front of him. They were long since numb, ready to drop at any second. He couldn't allow that though. Perhaps literally, he couldn't.
A pink jewel in a silver collar that posed as a necklace. The stories that followed it told of people turned into living dolls, their flesh hardening until it could shatter, and their joints would become immovable, trapping them in this form. Tales of a Collector who, well, collected these living dolls for her manor. That was centuries ago, and whatever curse this gemstone held had thankfully weakened over the years.
But that knowledge did little to tame the fear pulsing within him as his body stiffened, and he swore his skin hardened like porcelain. Stay calm. Breathe steady. It won't last forever.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" A silky voice glided over. The people immediately released their hold on Eldwin, and took a step back.
"Lord Cazriec! This exhibition is wonderful, you've outdone yourself," a woman said eagerly, flaring her fan.
"Thank you." Vivruh Cazriec gave a polite nod, as he sidled up to Eldwin. He reached out to brush Eldwin's hair out of his face, flattening some stray strands. "I do ask that you not be so rough. It took hours to get him looking this perfect, and the night isn't over yet."
"Of course, my lord. We apologise. If I may ask, what inspired you this time? "
Inspiration. As though Cazriec was an artist, and Eldwin his masterpiece. It was unfair, truly. Cazriec hadn't even done the makeup himself. But he talked about beauty and fairy-tales, spinning a fanciful story of his own with no mention of the gemstone.
After their exchange, the guests re-joined the crowd with apparently some ideas of their own. They have no idea, Eldwin thought ruefully.
The way Eldwin froze had nothing to do with the curse as Cazriec's hand snaked around his waist, pressing himself close to Eldwin's side.
"Enjoying the party, darling?"
Eldwin glared at him, without turning his head. This is humiliating.
Cazriec chuckled. His thin fingers smoothed out the ribbons, with the lilac-grey skin of a lunar elf. Expert illusionists - and dreamwalkers. You don't know the meaning of the word, his voice pulled at the back of Eldwin's mind. Aloud, he said, "That collector had the right idea, don't you think? All those poor people, dolled up and helpless..." His hand trailed lower, and Eldwin flinched. Or a least he would have. As it was he stayed stiff and immobile, a cold seeping through his bones, short breaths wanting to be desperate as his heartrate was forced to slow. A perfect doll. Pretty and helpless.
I hate this.
"It won't be forever. Just endure it a little while longer. You can do that for me, can't you?"
It's not like I have any choice.
"That's right," Cazriec whispered, his gleeful tone betraying his gentle ruse. "People like you don't get to make choices, do they? You exist to look pretty. To make people feel good. Provide your power for the world." He leaned in closer, his breath hot on Eldwin's face. "And you do it all so well."
Eldwin didn't have an answer. He lowered his gaze, and his breathing trembled only slightly. Almost imperceptive, though Cazriec probably knew. He always knew.
Accept your fate. Eldwin closed his eyes, just for a moment. Just to pull himself together.
Play his part. Accept his fate. These phrases he told himself over and over again, a bastion against the underlying anger that threatened to upend his life. He would play his role well. He was good. He could be good.
He wondered, as he did so often, why he even bothered.
CW: Typical whump stuff, such as violence and mild gore? Also descriptions might evoke spidery imagery. I can't think of anything else, please let me know if I missed something!
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Eldwin ducked behind a corner, narrowly avoiding another brick that hurled through the air. He leant against the wall, his hand firmly pressed to a deep gash on his arm. He'd hardly noticed the wound when it occurred, but taking a few moments to breathe he could feel its sharp sting, watched the red blossoming in his once-white sleeve.
A piercing screech drowned out the screams of civilians as they tore through the streets in a mad panic. He covered his ears with a wince. He'd be hearing a ringing for weeks.
Puddles of oil seeped into the cobblestone from shattered streetlamps, and city wardens fought to put out the fires while others attempted to control the evacuations. Bullets fired at the beast bounced off its body like rubber.
The beast roared, raising a huge arm that punched clean through the outer wall of a building sending debris flying clattering to the ground, drowned out by a high-pitched scream.
Eldwin steeled himself before he dashed back into the fray. A towering figure loomed over a woman who stared up at it frozen, fear and horror embedded on her face as it raised its fist-
A knife embedded in the side of its neck. The creature reached up, and pulled the blade from its flesh, a thick, black substance oozing from the wound which began to weave itself together. The woman was forgotten; slowly the beast turned to face Eldwin.
It was easily over ten feet tall with huge pincers that click-click-clicked as it destroyed everything in its path. Its upper-half had a muscular humanoid torso with hoary skin, and four arms thick as tree trunks punched through brick like it was nothing, crushing stones in its enormous fists. A bulbous lower-body scuttled around on eight legs each about the size of Eldwin himself and protected by an armoured shell reminiscent of a crabs. But the worst part was its face, if you could even call it that. For where there should be a recognisable face there were only eyes - hundreds of eyes, entirely black reflecting everything they looked at. It was like staring into a void, except the void stared back.
"Hey there." Eldwin held his hand up in a lazy wave. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" He threw a glance to the woman. A warden grabbed her arm and carefully coaxed her away, his terrified gaze fixated on the monsters back. Coward.
Eldwin stared back into the monsters eyes - or rather just one, really, there were far too many - and hummed idly. "And here I thought this was set to be a dull night. Does the festival annoy you too? Or are you just looking for some fun?"
The beast cocked its head, and Eldwin stared straight into its eyes. A dozen copies of himself, and nothing behind him. His own eyes flickered to behind the beast; the warden and the woman had gone.
A rush of warmth filled him as he called his aether forth, keeping his stance visibly relaxed. The beast stepped forward, and no sooner had it done so was it hit square in the chest by a raging green fire which swallowed it whole. It staggered back with a guttural howl, crashing into the walls over debris it had created. It clawed at its own body, encased entirely in flames. Eldwin watched, hearing the quick, steady thrum of his own heart, feeling the blood coursing through his veins. His body was weightless as his aether pulsed strong, soothing, wrapping around him like a warm embrace.
After a few moments passed, he raised his hand and curled his fingers into a fist, snuffing out the flames with practised ease.
His stomach dropped. For where there should have been nothing but the lingering scent of burned flesh, the creature still stood strong. Its breathing was heavy, flesh unmarred, and from where it stood tall it stared down, hundreds of black eyes boring into him, reflecting a dozen copies of his new target.
Well, shit.
Eldwin took a slow step backward.
And then another.
The creature let loose its infernal, ear-splitting screech, and he bolted.
It was fortunate the district had mostly evacuated for the beast left a trail of destruction wherever it went, brick walls left crumbling to dust. It looked like there had been an earthquake, the force of its might making the cobblestone roads crack and upturn. Bodies littered the ground of fools whom had tried to fight, or civilians who weren't quick enough to escape. Eldwin scooped up the sword of a fallen warden as he ran. Where to go, where to go? The roads were too narrow. He needed more space, while keeping the creature on his tail. What he was going to do with it, he didn't know. There was no time to make a plan.
He sharply rounded a corner, eyeing a factory in the distance. That one was out of use for over a decade, shut down and condemned. He didn't have to look back to know the beast was following him. Get to the abandoned factory, and then he could go all out. The fire didn't do it. The fire didn't do it.
Why didn't the fire do it?
He already knew the answer. He pushed it into the back of his mind, a sense of foreboding creeping in. Focus.
He used the flames to burn down the iron gate, turning it nothing in an instant. That would bring irritating questions, but slow and clumsy as the beast was, he wouldn't waste a second.
The factory yard was large and desolate, perfect. The fire seemed to hurt the monster, but didn't actually damage it, not enough. He might need to injure it more first. And exhaust it. He turned around, clutching his sword. The beast was huge, Eldwin couldn't reach its chest, let alone its head. He eyed the hard shell of the legs. Cut off the legs on one side, it will lose balance. He's not sure his sword will be enough to cut through. He could try to freeze it, and shatter it, but can he make it cold enough? No, that probably wouldn't work.
He was wasting too much time.
The beast raised its arms to strike. Eldwin leapt back, flickering out of view as an illusion of himself remained in place, staring the beast in the eyes. A few more appeared, surrounding the beast in a circle. It's swinging fist went straight through, and the illusion disappeared as though dispersing into smoke.
While it was distracted, Eldwin took the opportunity. He ran to one of its back legs, and with all his strength pierced the edge of his blade into the fleshy part of the leg, where it met the body. Even with his sword, the flesh was tough. Within a few seconds though, the leg fell to the ground with a splat, thick, black blood oozing onto the floor.
The creature howled and stumbled, trying to quickly turn around. It lunged for one of the illusions as Eldwin went for the next leg. It kicked out, clumsy and likely unintentional, but it still sent him falling into the dirt, sword slipping from his grasp.
Idiot! Should've accounted for that. Pain shot through his wrist as he pushed himself up, and the ground shook, the beast looking down upon him. No face to speak of, but if there was, Eldwin was sure it would be twisted with rage. Its chest heaved, and a strange growl sounded from its throat. It clicked its pincers, approaching. Eldwin scrambled to his feet, staggering back and he reached out, thick ice forming around the creatures lower half, meant to buy only a few seconds. It didn't even do that. The beast broke through immediately.
An arrow whistled through the air, embedding itself in the back of the beast which screeched again, swinging its fists wildly. Frankly, Eldwin would be surprised if the incessant ringing ever stopped. Still, if he could push past the pain and vertigo, there's his precious few seconds. He made a run for his sword, and the earth was tipping beneath him but he made it, he grabbed it and took a second - two seconds, maximum - to catch his breath, adjusting his hold on the intricate hilt. His eyes darted around, checking the beast, still far enough away, while looking for the source of the arrow. Maybe some of those useless wardens finally remembered what they're getting paid for. But arrows?
Eldwin left an illusion where he stood, blending in with the darkness to quickly creep behind the beast, going for the second leg. He was prepared, this time, and with a burst of strength, aether burning every muscle, every nerve - he sliced through the flesh with more ease, blood spurting through the air. He was quick to shut down the boost, a heavy throb in his limbs after only a few seconds.
A pulsing ache rushed through his skull, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. The air felt suffocating, and for a horrifying second the beast suddenly duplicated, another appearing out of nowhere to stand beside it - Eldwin blinked, and it slowly merged back into one.
Shit.
He probably had about another minute, maybe one minute and thirty seconds, of the strength boost. It would exhaust him, but he was already low on energy, and damaged. This had to end now, one way or another.
Another arrow struck the beast, this time in the shoulder. It was soon followed by another. The beast roared and ripped them out, furiously looking for the source. Eldwin took a deep breath - one, two, three - and that rush of aether flooded his body, concentrating in his legs and his blade wielding arm. He moved fast, slicing the third leg and the beast stumbled but didn't fall. In the darkness, another figure could just about be seen approaching rapidly, and Eldwin thought yelling could be heard in the distance, but maybe it was in his head.
A bolt of green fire encased the creatures head, earning a screech, and the momentary distraction he wanted. The fourth leg splattered to the ground, and the beast stumbled back, still fighting the fire that blocked its vision, before it hit the ground with a heavy thud that shook the earth around it. The fire spread, encasing its body as Eldwin slowly walked up from behind, to where he knew the neck was. The legs kicked, and the arms thrashed, and before it could even let out another screech and the blade sliced clean through its neck. Then it pierced the heart, for good measure. The sword clattered to the ground, and Eldwin swayed where he stood, taking a shaky step backwards as he snuffed out the flames, his energy spent. He waited, a building pressure in his skull, the world muffled and unsteady. But the beast didn't move. It didn't burn; but it didn't move. A pool of thick blood like tar spilled from his wounds, a gentle steam rising from it when suddenly, the corpse burst into flames - not Eldwin's abyssal fire, no, this looked normal. Except, slowly, it managed to burn through what Eldwin could not.
There was definitely talking, now. Stay focused. There were footsteps, and yelling. Someone was approaching him. He whipped around to face them, raising his arms to attack, feeling his weak aether rush forth - then he crumpled to the floor, and the last thing he felt was someone's hands grabbing him before the world went black.
CW: Off-screen minor character death, implied/referenced death of an infant, implied eye gore, briefly implied/referenced noncon
Note: Although the start begins with mentioning he was 13, he's 23 here! That bit's just how it all started.
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Eldwin’s body did not belong to him.
He’d known that from as young as thirteen years old, when the brand burned hot on his skin. An intricate design, a permanent symbol of what he was. Whose he was. Ownership hidden beneath gloves of fine silk or rough leather.
It was when he was thirteen that he met a stranger on the train tracks, and a promise was made. Regret instantly flooded him as he stared at the searing mark, but there was no going back. A deal was struck, and his life would never be the same.
When he looked up, the stranger was already gone.
*+*
“Hello Parvier.”
The man – Johim Parvier, thirty-two. Recently widowed – stared at him in horror. It was a look Eldwin saw often these days; it was only natural when someone stands before you covered in blood, and you know that you're next. Eldwin tilted his head to one side, patiently waiting for Parvier to find his words.
“What have you done!?” Another common reaction. Eldwin almost sighed, but refrained. He was a professional, after all.
He chose not to answer. Instead, he asked a question of his own. “What do you think?”
Parvier gaped at him, his eyes wide with panic. Then he turned and bolted, racing down the dark street as fast as he could go. Eldwin watched him for a moment, before ducking down an alleyway he knew was a shortcut. He didn't need to get there first; what awaited Parvier would keep him there for some time.
The front door was already open when Eldwin got there. He sauntered inside, running his hand along the railing as he went upstairs. The smell of blood only got stronger.
“She called for you, you know.” Eldwin leaned on the side of the door frame, his arms folded. Parvier stood frozen by the bed. He didn’t make a sound.
There, lay clumsily as if she’d fallen backwards, was a woman with alabaster skin, frazzled hair and painted lips parted with the ghost of her pleas. Empty eye sockets stared at the ceiling leaking trails of blood like tears. One hand was outstretched towards an empty cot, out of her reach.
“Begged you to save her. Save your daughter. She would have made a wonderful mother; in her final moments, despite being in terrible pain, she still tried to comfort her precious girl.”
Parvier breathed heavily. A low-pitched wail tore from his throat, a sound no man should even be able to make. Then he turned and launched himself at Eldwin, who remained in the doorway and didn’t move as Parvier’s hand enclosed around his throat.
“Where is she!?” Parvier demanded, tears streaming down his red cheeks. “What did you do!?”
“Rosie, was it? Don’t worry. You’ll be seeing her soon enough.” Eldwin brought his knee into Parvier’s crotch with full force causing him to release his hold with a stream of expletives. A well-placed kick with steel-lined boots sent him crashing to the floor. Eldwin straddled his waist to pin him, earning a scream as he pierced his hand with a dagger, through his palm to the floor. With one hand he pressed a knife to his throat. Black chains sprung from thin air, coiling around Parvier’s kicking legs like snakes, painfully tight, squeezing his arms and rendering him immobile. He stifled a whine as Eldwin dug the blade in just enough to draw a trickle of crimson seeping down his neck. “Was it worth it? What did they offer you that you didn’t already have? Sanctuary? Freedom? I thought you were smarter than that.”
“I wanted a new life! Five years contract, I’d be done by the time Rosie’s in school! These people, your people, they’re all monsters, all of them! I thought-” His voice broke off into sobs. Eldwin rolled his eyes. Why he never just killed them quickly, he didn't know. “We would move away, out of the city, away from all this!”
“What a nice thought,” Eldwin said dryly, “But that doesn’t tell me why you thought you could get away with it. You were doing so well. In five years, you could have been an executive, and the world would be at your fingertips. But you’ve gone and thrown it all away.” He retraced the dagger from his neck, twirling it to get a better grip.
“I trusted you,” Parvier spat venom despite his quivering voice. “I took pity on you! No wonder you were always alone. You’re the worst of them all!"
“For what it’s worth, I had nothing against you. You brought this on yourself.” He raised the dagger, point reflected in Parvier’s terrified pupil. “Perhaps you'll be able to protect your family in your next life."
“Wait, wait wait wait, please!”
Eldwin paused. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge him for a moment. The end result would be the same.
“Rosie,” he said weakly, “Please, she's not here, where is she, you- you can grant me that at lea-”
His eyes glinted in the silver blade. Blood spurted with a curdling scream.
*+*
“You’re late.”
Eldwin dropped to one knee, fist enclosed over his his thumping heart and his head bowed.
“I’m sorry sir,” he replied automatically.
“Silence,” Clyde ordered. “I didn’t tell you to speak.”
You never do. A flash of irritation coursed through him. I’m just somehow supposed to know, and I get punished both for not speaking and for speaking out of turn. He didn’t say that, of course. Never mind the fact that he got his job done, he was late. In a world that expects nothing less than perfection, the smallest error was written down as a failure. A weakness that must be corrected.
“Well? Report.”
It was only a simple job. Frankly, well below his level. “The mission went smoothly,” Eldwin said, careful to keep his tone level. “The targets were killed, all evidence disposed of. It was an easy task; there is nothing else of note.”
“Johim Parvier?”
Yes, he knew who his targets were. “Dead.”
“The wife?”
“Also dead. Do you not trust me?”
Eldwin felt Clyde’s gaze boring into him. “The child.”
Without missing a beat, “Dead.”
Eldwin tensed as Clyde walked from behind his desk to stand directly in front of him. Cruel fingers grasped his chin, forcing his head up.
"Liar."
The sound of his skin being struck reverberated through the office. His cheek stung, and he resisted the urge to wipe away whatever trickled down his face. He breathed out slowly, determined to not make a sound.
Clyde grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back. “You didn’t do it, did you? You were too weak to do what was needed.”
“She’s not even a year old!” Eldwin snapped, anger rising within him. He wrenched himself away from Clyde’s grasp. For a long moment he met Clyde’s dull eyes, his own blazing with fury. “What is she going to do? She won’t remember any of this. Both parents are dead, both died believing she was or will be killed. Why do we need to go further?”
He doubled over as a swift kick collided with his stomach, expelling the air from his lungs. No matter how he braced, the effect was the same. A bitter taste filled his mouth with twisting nausea and for a second he thought he would throw up. As he instinctively moved to protect his abdomen another kick to his side sent him crashing inelegantly to the floor. He tried to push himself up, trying to catch some air but all he could do was curl in on himself, arms over to protect his head, knees up to his chest.
“You don’t get to make those decisions!” Clyde landed blow after blow. “You don’t get to question me, think you know better. You. Are. Mine! Your only purpose is to follow my orders!” His voice rose with every word until he was yelling, boiling rage pushing him to his limit. “What did you do with her?” Another hard kick to his ribs. “Answer me!”
“I’m not telling you,” Eldwin managed. He gasped for breath, pulling himself up on all fours. His arms trembled beneath him. Even if he did, Clyde was unlikely to actually do anything. Even he would have to admit there was no point in tracking her down now. It wasn’t about her. It was about Eldwin daring to have a mind of his own. Knowingly and purposefully disobeying his orders. The child would live, but Eldwin was not allowed to make that decision. So he would pay the price.
“Is that so?”
Predictably, Eldwin ended up on the floor again, this time on his back with Clyde’s polished boot planted on his throat. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep his hands by his head while his airways were cut off. His face burned, his lungs fought for oxygen, and he had to stay still. Ignore his body’s most primal instinct. It was easier said than done. But he was experienced.
“You take me for a fool.” Clyde pressed down harder and if his airways weren’t currently being crushed Eldwin might have let out a whimper. Fortunately, Clyde had taken care of that. “I let you have freedom, more than you deserve and mark my words, I can take it back just as easily. If you pull anything like this again, you will regret having taken me for granted, I promise you that.” He let go.
Immediately Eldwin rolled over, coughing and wheezing. He was able to get to his knees. He didn’t dare to stand. He bowed so low the ends of his hair brushed the ground. His body ached. This was only the start, he knew. It would be worse later. At least he didn’t think anything was broken.
“Get up,” Clyde hissed. Eldwin tentatively straightened, unsure if he should stand or not. The decision was made for him when he was roughly pulled up by the collar of his shirt. Clyde kept a tight hold, dragging him down the hall. The office building was mostly empty at the late hour, but there were a few stragglers they passed. Some pointedly didn’t look. Most watched them leave with disdain. It wasn’t an uncommon sight to see. Likely, they wondered why Clyde didn’t have better control over his pet project – it’s not that he couldn’t. He chose not to.
Eldwin often wondered the same thing.
The dark cell was like a second home. In some ways, he preferred it to his nice room at the manor – at least this one looked like a prison. Chains hung from the ceiling, shackles on the wall, and a cabinet with some favourite supplies stood out of reach of any of the restraints.
He wasn’t a minimalist, but he could see the appeal. The dingy, vaguely damp atmosphere had a certain charm.
Clyde shoved him to his knees in the centre. A metal collar lay on the floor, attached to a chain. Longer cuffs hung above him. His arms were pulled taut behind his back, in the cuffs hanging from the ceiling, then he leaned down as much as he could as the collar was secured around his neck. It was a position that was uncomfortable from the start, already tugging on his shoulders. It would be killer later. He had a sneaking suspicion that was probably the point.
A gag was shoved into his mouth, iron bit clinking against his teeth. The gag fitted around his face like a muzzle, with metal inside pinning his tongue so he could not speak. It was one of his least favourite instruments, more so when Clyde attached a thin chain to the back of it, stretching it to attach the other end to his wrists, pulling his head back. Any movement would disturb the gag, scraping and tearing the inside of his mouth while the cuffs around his wrists would rub deep. He had the chains on his wrist trying to keep him up, while the one attached to his collar wanted to drag him to the floor.
Next, black cloth was tied around his head, covering his eyes. Rather pointless, seeing as the room would be dark enough when the door closed, but it made Clyde feel good, and it’s not like Eldwin could say anything anyway.
“You forget your place. You don’t get to make choices, to decide who’s punished, who lives and who dies. I gave you the chance to be useful. Do you know what happens to people who are not useful? Most are killed, or sold. Slaves. Lab rats. The only way they can find some value in their miserable lives. Is that what you want?
“Never forget that my word is the only thing keeping you safe. I have been lenient, but you can only push me so far.” Clyde’s footsteps receded, and his voice was more distant, but no less firm. The loud anger was gone, replaced with a cold, underlying tone that only said danger. “Be grateful for what you’ve been given, and don’t try to be someone you’re not. Think about your actions tonight. Decide whether it was worth it. Because believe me, if this happens again there will be no more chances.”
The room shook as the heavy door slammed shut. Eldwin exhaled slowly. He twisted his wrists, ignoring the stinging pain in his mouth to try in vain for a slightly more comfortable position. The clanking of chains was the only sound to break the stuffy silence. He soon gave up. His body ached with the dull throb of forming bruises – no doubt he’d be decorated by morning. His arms were already growing numb.
Was it worth it. Another question he asked himself a lot. It was easy to say no. Every time he spoke without thinking, immediately regretting it when he saw the expression on Clyde’s face. Every broken bone, every gash through his skin. Every time he nearly suffocated in his own fear, every hard-earned lesson he would still learn to this day, over and over again until it’s drilled into his skull. Every day spent in the lab, coming out feeling nauseous and trembling, unable to get out of bed as his body refused to obey him. Every time he stumbled from someone else’s room, sick to his stomach with an encompassing hollow within, it’s your own fault-
Watching the light drain from someone’s eyes beneath his hands. The rush it gives him, and the accompanying guilt for feeling that way.
Every time he looked in the mirror, and didn’t recognise the person staring back. He would ask himself that very same question – is it worth it, while he takes off his glove and glares at the mark, the reminder of the choice he made. When thinking of that night, the night on the train tracks, he thinks about why. He thinks of bright eyes shining with admiration, the sound of children’s laughter. He remembers the quiet cries at night, from one not knowing they could be heard. The utter helplessness he felt.
Tiny fingers curling in his cloak, unaware of the world they missed.
He wouldn’t linger on that question anymore. He wasn't sure he could accept the answer.
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Baby Cass and Eldwin? :3
No content warnings here! Except well, they're children, but there's not much whump to speak of. It's cute, funny, and a little sad.
Ancassius was nine years old when he'd arrived in Aenora.
He'd cried when they left. He'd begged and begged to stay behind, that he could look after himself, and when papa returned they would go and find them together. Of course he wasn't allowed. He sobbed helplessly as they boarded the ship, his mama with a babe on either hip, another clinging to her skirt. His grandmother refused to let go of his hand, half dragging him along through the hustle and bustle of the port, packed with citizens desperate to escape. His older siblings trailed mournfully behind.
The Blight is spreading, they'd said. Better to leave now before it's too late. Not everyone left. Some insisted on staying either in denial or just willing to die with their homeland.
"There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity," his grandmother had said with a sniff.
As the ship pulled away from the docks, Ancassius leaned on the railing, propping his chin on his hands. Watching as Xluvia -his home- shrunk into the horizon. He wondered if he'd ever see it again.
*+*+*
He didn't like Aenora. It was cold and miserable, and no one would speak to him. He spoke some Aenoran, but not enough. He liked to speak Xluvian, but he couldn't here without someone rolling their eyes and muttering something he didn't understand. So Ancassius learned to keep to himself. He sat quietly in the room they called a school -ran by an old woman with a scary cane that she was not afraid to use- three days a week, and they attended temple service on the final weeks end of every month, and when mama was too busy and he was shooed out the house he sat glumly by the far end of the stream, watching the ripples in the water. Was papa on his way to them, he wondered. How would he find them in this new land with strange words and unfriendly people?
This was where he'd met her, months later.
He hadn't noticed her approach. A shadow loomed over him and he looked up and startled, scrambling backwards and almost fell into the stream. A pale face framed with hair down past her shoulders, the colour of the crows that flew overhead, and large eyes like silver that stared into his soul. She bent down, leaning in to his face as he pulled away, and she just… stared.
"Come with me," she said. It wasn't a request. Ancassius whimpered.
She grabbed his wrist and began dragging him along, toward the forest. Her grip was surprisingly strong for such a small girl, couldn't be more than seven, maybe eight years old. When Ancassius tried to pry her fingers off her grip tightened and she pulled him along more firmly. She said something he couldn't quite catch.
The trees grew thicker and wilder, blocking out the sun as they ventured deeper into the woods. His gut twisted and the deeper they went, the more he wanted to flee.
"Where are we going?" He whispered. She didn't answer. Ancassius glanced back. He couldn't see the edge of the forest anymore. He sniffled, using his free hand to wipe away forming tears. He wished he'd hugged mama that morning instead of sulking.
"Here," she said proudly, placing her hands on her hips. Ancassius craned his neck to follow her gaze. His stomach sank.
"If I fall, go get help." She adjusted her skirt, placed her foot on the trunk, her hand on the lowest branch, and began climbing the towering tree.
"Wait- what? But I- I'm lost!" His mind started racing. What if she did fall? He didn't know the way back, he wasn't paying attention! "I'll- I'll scream?"
"No. The wolves will get you."
Ancassius let out a squeak. There were wolves!? "Don't go!"
The girl didn't listen. She disappeared into the trees, a bag hanging loosely across her shoulders.
*+*
Ancassius waited for what felt like hours. It was getting darker. And colder. It was probably time for dinner.
He chewed on his nails, glancing up at the tree, and scanning the forest. Mama was going to be angry. He didn't know which way to go back.
"Hello?" He called nervously, looking around. He couldn't hear any howling. "Are you there?"
Something rustled in the bushes. He was going to die. He was going to die and he didn't even get to say goodbye-
The wind ruffled his mousy hair, and he swore he heard a whisper. But there was nothing there. There was a painful lump in his throat and he tears stung his eyes. He had to go. he just had to pick a direction and run and hope and pray-
"HI!"
Ancassius screamed at the high voice, accompanied by a dull thud and the rustling of leaves. He whipped around to see the girl, clothes filthy and dishevelled, skirt torn with twigs in her hair and a wide grin on her face.
"I'm back," she said cheerfully.
"I want to go home," he sobbed, not caring how childish he sounded. It was dark, cold, and he was tired and hungry and scared. He wanted to go home. Not back to that sad lonely village. He wanted the bustling streets, the sea view and the warm food and he missed his friends, he missed papa.
Her smile faded. "Why are you crying?"
He just looked at her through the tears in his eyes. His lip wobbled.
"Look what I got." She reached into her bag and held up a large feather, black with white edges and an emerald sheen. "There's a bunch of them. Want one?"
He didn't answer, and she sighed. She dug further through. "Here." She handed him a small, round green ball. He stared at it, confused.
She rolled her eyes. "Eat it." To demonstrate she grabbed another and bit into it. She waved it at him. "See? It's safe."
Tentatively, Ancassius took a bite. It was sweet, with a smooth texture and just a slight sourness. It was… nice.
Now she looked satisfied. "Come on, let's go home." She slid her hand into his and led them back through the woods.
"Are you going to hurt me?" He mumbled. She stopped, and stared at him.
"Idiot." And she continued pulling him along.
He didn't know what that meant. He'd ask mama.
*+*
They'd both gotten in trouble for that. The girl had the decency to look ashamed as her mother scolded her the moment they stepped foot in the village. The girls mother, with the same black hair and pale eyes, seemed exasperated more than worried. Ancassius' mama, on the other hand, was beside herself. She'd hugged him close to her chest, murmuring into his hair. He'd made her worry. That was the last thing he wanted. He wrapped his arms around her, and refused to let her go.
*+*+*
For some reason, they started hanging out more after that. She told him her name -Eldwin- ("Is that a girls name?" "It's my name.") and he told her his. He'd thought she was quiet, but the more time they spent together he realised she talked a lot. She got excited about being outside, and foraging for fruits and mushrooms. Their walks to her home after school took longer than it should for she'd insist they stop and move every snail or toad, or any other critter who happened to be in their path. She once was too excited and stepped on one. Her words abruptly cut off, her face crumpled the moment they heard that crunch beneath her boot.
That was Ancassius' first time attending a funeral.
She was a strange child, he decided. She didn't seem to have any friends, other than Cass. She said she liked being alone. Ancassius said he was glad she spent time with him.
One day, she pulled him deep into the woods. "Watch this." She crouched down at a puddle, her palm just barely hovering over the muddy water.
His eyes widened as the puddle slowly turned to ice. "How did you do that?" He whispered in awe.
She grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Magic."
*+*
One day, Eldwin turned up in his brothers old clothes and his hair chopped short. "I'm a boy now," he declared.
Ancassius nodded. "Okay," he said solemnly. He held up the tattered pink rabbit toy. "Do you want the princess in the fort or the tower?"
*+*+*
"He's getting worse." Eldwin's voice quivered and he looked away to hide his face. "He's not gonna make it."
Ancassius saw that look reflected in his mothers eyes, all those years ago. A bone deep exhaustion that weighed upon his very soul, saw it in dark circles and bones protruding from sickly skin.
He should have seen the signs.
"I'm tired, Cass," Eldwin whispered, almost inaudibly. He gazed up at the stars, his expression glazed. "How much longer can this last?"
*+*
Why didn't he stop it?
He could have stopped it.
He should have seen the signs.
Why did he ignore the signs?
*+*+*
He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped outside that morning. People kept throwing glances his way, some pitying, others suspicious, and the neighbours were muttering amongst themselves. Small villages like this, people loved to gossip. It was the things they were saying that concerned him. Words like troubled and tragic, with the names of Eldwin's parents thrown in there.
Ancassius' breath hitched.
Then, 'traitor.'
"I told you he was trouble," mama said with a huff when farmer Ellis told them the news. Ancassius had immediately tried to run, to see for himself, but mama kept a firm grip on his arm. "Well, at least we're not the outsiders anymore."
He couldn't breathe. He stared toward Eldwin's house, out of sight just outside the village, on the long road. A road they'd walked so often together, early mornings and late nights to and from work, the others company the only thing making those winter miles bearable. "What's going to happen to him?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
"Don't know," the old farmer shrugged, "He ran away. He won't get far; there's no life for a warlock."
I love Eldwin. Thinking of a group captivity situation with his friends or allies or just a stranger who isn't an asshole, where he is already in a very bad state already he's already weak and injured, he really needs a break to recover - and then whumper comes to take him out again, and someone well-meaning tries to sacrifice themselves instead, "take me instead, I can take it-"
And then Eldwin, half-dead and who really cannot take much more, suddenly has a lot more energy, fuck you, I can take it, and basically walks into whumpers arms and this is why he almost dies a lot
