Hey yknow how I haven’t written in a million years? Uh. Broke that streak have this tiny morsel.
Disclaimer: No Longer Updating This Iteration of TBaT; Rewrite In Progress
To Be A Trophy
Prologue
Content warnings: Whumper POV, war, removal/potential damage to prosthetic limbs, mention of burns (not explicit and old/healed over), soldier whumpee, reference to religion (fictional), priest whumpee, reference to houses burning, no beta reader or second draft bc I will lose all motivation that way lmao
Alrighty! Redo number three of the same goddamn series (second redo on my old acc, og is… no place, i think, but you are welcome to try if you remember someone who rbed before it was deleted. Originally published under Collared Prince but uh. Didn’t like the abbreviation of CP being on my laptop’s files lmao)
This version focuses way less on Tarron and Nym and more on some of the other characters, mainly Linari, Lucia, and Saffron :3
I don’t think anyone will want to but if you want to be on a taglist lmk, I’ll try my best lmao.
Princess Lucia Marie Deux looked out over the battlefield. Calling it that was an exaggeration, really. A few houses were ablaze, but other than that, it could be mistaken for a normal, painfully boring afternoon.
Guards flanked her on either side as she crossed from their makeshift camp towards the church across the road. She walked with her head held high, cold, icy blue eyes meeting bleary grey ones. The figure standing across from her set the tattered white shirt they had been waving aside. Lucia signaled her guards to restrain them.
“You won’t even ask our terms?” The elf choked out, voice hoarse from shouting, as their arms were seized (one came off in the process, startling a guard who was, apparently, unaware of it being a prosthesis).
“Like you have any grounds to negotiate.” Lucia retorted. “The rest of your people are inside?”
“Like I’d tell you,” they snarled. The guard not preoccupied with their arm kicked them, sending their leg flying and causing it to nearly hit Lucia.
She sighed and glowered at the guard at fault, before turning her attention back to the captured soldier. “No more blood needs to be shed.”
“Then why the hell are you still here?”
Lucia bent her knee, crouching so she was at eye level with them. “You cannot protect them any more than you can stop the tides. Those who are deemed of value to Dubfort will be taken. The rest will go free. Those are our terms.”
The soldier glared at her. She waved the guards to drag them aside and allow her to enter the building.
The first thing that struck her was how few people there were. They were mostly children and the elderly. The few others scattered about were all either injured or disabled, limping or on crutches or otherwise immobile. They hadn’t been able to fight or evacuate, it seemed. It appeared that the group had been milling around, stressing, and treating their injuries before she had entered. The entire group, around forty people, froze in their spots as she did.
At the center of the chaos was a young elf, in their twenties at most, in a wheelchair and priest’s robes. Their eyes, shadowed by large round glasses, locked eyes with Lucia.
They pushed themself forward, posture confident and mouth set into a firm line. A younger girl, who looked a great deal like them, tried to stop them but was brushed off. Lucia noted that they both looked like the soldier from outside.
“Where is Nym?” they asked.
“Nym?”
“They were the one waving the white flag. We surrendered. According… According to code fifteen, section three point A-”
“No harm has come to them.” Lucia cut the priest off. “The rest of you!” she shouted, “Line up, hands where we can see them. Try anything and you will be shot.”
The group complied, save for some crying children who were coaxed into position quickly enough. Lucia watched them. A few of the younger adults looked particularly worried. She couldn’t find it in her to blame them.
The guards had dragged the soldier⚊ Nym, the priest had said⚊ in, and were forcing them to stand (or, well, slump, with their leg and arm missing) with the others. They moved to be next to the priest and teen who looked like them.
Lucia strolled up the line, considering her options, but found her eyes drawn to Nym. Their body was in rough shape, badly burned on one side. The wounds were old, but they still winced when the teen girl grabbed the stump of their arm to stabilize them. She looked over to the priest. They looked at Nym concernedly, gently guiding them to sit on the floor. Their eyes were beautiful, pale green and speckled with soft gold. Lucia had heard rumor of the Blessed priest of Garranuisce, one of the few who Solace had ever chosen as prophets. Linari, their name was.
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This one’s kinda tame tbh, still just beginning :)
Linari’s blood spiked with dread, cold and harsh. The woman— Princess Lucia, watched them carefully, her icy blue eyes analyzing their reaction.
They glanced to their siblings, to Roni’s watering eyes and the spark of rage forming in Nym’s. Their older sibling was already opening their mouth, no doubt about to say something that would screw them all over. They looked at the ring on Nym’s left finger, soft and delicate gold with the royal seal engraved upon it. They looked at Roni, watched her already beginning to stand up.
“Okay,” they murmured. “Okay.”
Lucia snapped her hands and the guards grabbed their wrists, attempting to drag them out of their chair. Their legs wobbled for a moment, trying to catch their weight, but failed, and they tripped forward into the guards’ arms. Nym tried to stand too, but stumbled before Roni caught them, easing them back down. She started to say something, but Linari cut her off.
“It’s okay. I’ll—” their voice broke a bit. “I’ll be fine.”
The guards dragged them out, across the road and into the camp. There, they were shoved to the floor in a tent and stripped. Their glasses fell from their face, just out of reach, but before they could say anything, one of the guards stepped on the gold frames with a sickening crunch.
“I-I can’t see without those—“ they began, only to have a kick delivered to their jaw. The other guard crouched down closer to them and grabbed their only remaining belonging—a gold pendant around their neck.
“How much d’you reckon this’ll go for?” He asked his comrade.
“Couple hundred, at least. Looks old, too. Prolly an antique.”
“It’s—It’s not real gold, it’s just brass, it was my mother’s. It’s worthless to anyone else.” The words tumbled out of their mouth. “It’s the only thing I have of hers. Please,” they begged, “Please let me keep it.”
Before the guard could reply, Lucia stepped into the tent.
“Release them. They hardly need restraints.” The guards obeyed her, stepping away from Linari.
Linari pushed themself up to look at her, squinting so that they could make out their captor.
She was tall, with long blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. Her uniform, slightly dirty and tattered, was deep blue and silver, with a black comm system pinned to the front pocket. She had a gun, though it was holstered at her hip, and on the opposite side she had a lightknife clipped to her belt. She tossed something at them, which at first appeared to be a sheet. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a dress; it was black, high collared like their robes, but with no sleeves. Its skirt was almost more akin to a loincloth, cut extremely high on the sides but coming much lower on the front and back.
“Get dressed,” Lucia ordered, “And I’ll allow you a wheelchair.”
Silently, they complied. At the least, they were thankful it was easy to put on over their head.
Once they were clothed, she had one of the guards bring in a wheelchair. It was the kind made for short-term use, much more uncomfortable than the custom one they used normally.
Beggars couldn’t be choosers, they supposed.
“May I ask what you’re doing with me, exactly?” They asked.
“You’re coming back to Dubfort with me as a spoil of war. You’re simply a trophy,” Lucia responded. Her voice let on no emotion.
They didn’t respond.
The next several days were a blur of travel and silence. Lucia neither showed cruelty nor mercy to them as she had them loaded into the trucks to be brought back with her. Once they were secure, they spent three days in solitude in the cargo section, painfully thirsty and aching from the ill-fitting chair.
On the third night, they were finally dragged back out of the cargo truck and given some water. Lucia watched them carefully.
“I’m not exactly going to run, you know,” they muttered.
“I do know that. I’m simply… curious. Anyone else in your position would be fighting the entire time. Why aren’t you?”
“I can’t run. I can’t really even fight. All I can do is try not to do anything to piss you off.” Linari murmured. “I… I know it would be disgraceful for you to return without a trophy of sorts. If I’m too troublesome you’ll go back and find someone else to bring back.”
“You’re trying to protect the other two. Your siblings.” There was a hint of surprise in her voice.
Linari nodded. It was dark out, a soft wash of moonlight illuminating their pale face. Lucia noticed how the gold flecks in their eyes seemed to move about like sparks from a fire. It wasn’t hard to imagine how rumors of their Blessing began. The two sat in silence for a moment. Then, Lucia turned on her heel and walked out, slamming the door shut behind her and sealing them inside.
