Whumpulump

"I know you're holding back."

"Sire?"

"When you fight me." The prince folded his arms across his chest, doing his best not to outright glower at his most talented (and regrettably handsome) knight. "I know you're holding back."

"Of course," the knight said, promptly, "it would not do to assassinate the king-in-waiting. Terrible for my career prospects, my lord, I'm sure you understand."

The prince spluttered. A flush spread across his face, and the knight's mouth twisted just briefly in what could have been a smirk.

"I mean in training," the prince said. He took a step closer, to where the knight was sitting perched on a shallow stone wall, sharpening his blade. "You're holding back in training. I do not intend to suggest you should actually murder me. Or are you such a brute that murder or throwing a fight entirely are your only options?"

The knight's gaze flickered over him. "Only when my opponent is so pretty, sire."

"Pretty!" The prince's jaw dropped. "I'm not pretty."

"And perhaps the pretty royal face should not be bruised. They'll need you for a coin someday."

"The king assigned you to train me," the prince said, haughtily. "That means I should be trained to handle a proper fight. Not simply formal jousts and tournament duels."

The knight's head tilted, studying him.

"You disagree?" the prince demanded. "I can handle anything you throw at me! Because, as your prince-"

The knight swept the prince's legs out from under him.

The prince didn't even see him move. One instant, the ground was stable, the next he was on his arse, blinking up at the knight still sitting on the wall. Casual as one pleased.

Lords, but it was hot. Infuriatingly hot.

They stared at each other for a moment. The knight's eyes darkened at whatever he saw on the prince's face.

The prince cleared his throat.

"Real fights won't wait for you to be warned or ready," the knight said.

"You enjoyed that." It still came out more breathless than it should.

"Teaching my prince is an honour and a privilege, sire."

"Of course."

The prince pushed himself up onto his feet again and - the knight rose towering, seized him by the arm, and in a blur the prince was bent over the stone wall. He fought back, naturally. Kicking and squirming and thrashing against the knight's grip, but it didn't do him any good. It just made him infinitely aware of the strength gap between them.

The prince was not, as far as he was aware, actually delicate. It was only that the knight...well.

The prince was touched by a lot of people, servants and the like. No one ever manhandled him like the knight did, though. No one would dare. He'd never needed strength to get his way, that was what debate and rhetoric was for.

The knight tugged his arm behind his back, gently, but enough to send a warning twinge through the prince's shoulder. His back arched with a whine, before he went still, panting and gently disbelieving. He twisted his head up to glare up at the knight again, eyes a little watery.

The knight bit his lip, the leaned down, warm body instead of cold armour against the prince's spine, soft lips brushing against the prince's ear.

"Do you yield?" the knight asked.

"No! Never."

"I could break your arm."

"My father-" The prince realised his mistake. In a proper fight, there were no such protections. There was more at stake than bruises and battered pride. The prince set his jaw.

The knight laughed, low and velvet.

"An honour and a privilege, was it?" the prince asked.

"You wanted this. You asked."

"I-" The prince faltered. He did not, as a rule, falter. It would be helpful to be a little less aware of the knight pressed against him. He felt like he was burning up. He blamed the summer sun. "Let me up."

"Do you yield?"

"Well, you're not going to keep my like this all day, are you? Let's go again."

The knight hummed. "I could."

"Excuse me?"

"I could keep you like this all day. I'm due on patrol," the knight said. "I could take my belt, bind your hands, and throw you over my horse saddle. You could explain to everyone that you're practicing how to escape from being kidnapped. Probably more realistic for you, given your position."

The prince's stomach did not something new. He couldn't decide if the feeling was thoroughly unpleasant or the exact opposite.

"...I yield."

"Very good, my prince."

The knight stepped back, smoothly, and the prince turned. His heart hammered in his chest. He appraised the knight for any sign of weaknesses. Obviously, in pure strength, the knight was not a fight he'd win, but...

"Perhaps tomorrow, then," the knight said. "For your training."

"Excuse me?" the prince found himself saying, again.

"If you are still interested."

"Yes! Yes." The prince swallowed, brain coming slowly back online. "Tomorrow. Maybe...perhaps when no one else is on the field?"

"I have drills in the morning. I can meet you in the evening at any place you deem appropriate, sire."

"My quarters? At 7?"

The knight's head tilted. His eyes gleamed, though his expression was impassive. "Of course, sire. I'll see you in quarters."

"As you were, then," the prince said.

The knight nodded, then stepped closer. The prince's breath hitched, but the knight only patted the prince's ruffled hair back in place and straightened his dishevelled clothing.

The prince caught his hands, automatically, but didn't push the knight away. He took a moment to study the sword-calloused hands. Rugged. Nothing like his own.

"The trick, sire," the knight murmured, "is to not let your opponent that close if you can avoid it. Not in a fight."

"Staying close seems instrategic," the prince agreed. "I could have stabbed you."

"With your hands behind your back?"

"If I actually wanted to hurt you. I'm not a brute."

"No, sire."

The prince let go, a little shaky, and the knight dipped his head in a bow that wasn't technically mocking but still made the prince's insides simmer. There was a flash of that smirk again.

-Caretaker gently carrying a spider or other creepy crawly out into the garden instead of squashing it gives the Whumpee who was always considered expendable a lump in their throat.

-Caretaker having a “scary” dog breed like a Pitt bull or Rottweiler but treating it like a pet and lapdog, loving on it instead of training it to attack. Living Weapon Whumpee watches hopefully from their spot standing guard as the dog lays its head in Caretakers lap.

-Caretaker fixing their old beater of a car instead of getting a new one, even though they could afford it, and the Whumpee who was replaced after get hurt/making a mistake/getting too old/etc feels a sense of overwhelming relief.

-Caretaker feeding and watching over a feral stray cat from a distance, never trying to trap it or get too close, just making sure it’s okay. Stoic/defiant Whumpee not letting themselves think about how that makes them feel. Also, if/when Caretaker has to catch and treat the stray because it’s gotten injured or sick, realizing that that’s what Caretaker had been doing for them. They just were too scared to understand.

-Caretaker oiling and polishing their tools, putting them away carefully, taking pains that they were well taken care of and would last forever. Mentioning offhandedly that if you take care of your tools, they’ll take care of you. Slave Whumpee nodding emphatically, hoping that mindset extends to them as well.

Whumpee collapsing while protecting Caretaker from Whumper

WHUMPEE

“Ngh— No! Don’t… Don’t touch them!”

stumbling, barely able to stand, but eyes full of determination and hate

“No, take… take me.”

begging caretaker to run and leave them behind before passing out

“Back the fuck off. You don’t… You don’t get them too!”

resisting with pure adrenaline fueled rage and collapsing in the middle of a sentence

WHUMPER

“Are you sure you want to do this, Whumpee? Couldn’t even defend yourself against me, and… Ah, there you go. Weak, as always.”

eyes lighting up with delight when whumpee resists… and even more so when they collapse

“Aw, poor thing. Brave and pathetic as expected.”

cirling the two of them slowly, while caretaker moves with them to stay in between whumper and whumpee

“This is your big saviour, Caretaker? Bit embarrassing, isn’t it?”

watching caretaker try to frantically wake whumpee in amusement

“You have a choice here, Caretaker. You can either suffer the same fate as Whumpee, or just hand them over.”

crouching beside them and reaching out to caress whumpee’s face, until caretaker yanks their body away

CARETAKER

“No, stay down— Whumpee!”

pressing lips to whumpee’s head and whispering “You’re such an idiot” in a fondly worried tone

“Stay back! Don’t touch them!”

but one day they look disgruntled, vaguely annoyed. whumpee doesn't know why caretaker seems distant and unreachable. they want to apologize, but they don't know if it might aggravate them further.

it all comes to a head when whumpee keeps fidgeting— maybe with their sleeve, or they keep bouncing their leg, or twisting and pulling at their hair— and caretaker briskly orders them to stop it. whumpee goes very still and tense, stammering, "I, I'm sorry— can you, will you, um," caretaker is not in a good mood, and it seems as though it's only getting worse by their stammering, "pleasedon'tsendmeback."

and they can keep it up until caretaker, the only person who can really get through to them, pushes the medics away and stands in front of whumpee, strong enough for the both of them, and whumpee breaks

unfortunately this is usually fully ignored in the next part of the fight where they find their motivation and get a second wind and all the injuries they've sustained are never mentioned again but still. for the duration of when they're GETTING the injuries at least, it's always so so fun

And then Caretaker came. And hugged him, ever so gently.

Two seconds, three, five. "Ok, ok, I'm alright, you can let go now," Whumpee say. Caretaker nods and keeps holding. Fifteen seconds in Whumpee's arms raise to hug Caretaker back.

And thaaaat's when the dam breaks. First the lip begins shaking. "I'm alright, really," he says and the voice cracks. He finally cries.

1. “You’re done. You hear me? You did enough.”

2. “Hey—stop. You don’t have to prove anything right now.”

3. “Breathe. Just… breathe, okay? That’s all you need to do.”

4. “You’re shaking. Sit down before you fall down.”

5. “Don’t make me hold you down just to make you rest.”

6. “You don’t have to keep fighting, kid. It’s over.”

7. “Look at me. You’re safe. That’s it—just stay here.”

8. “You’re allowed to fall apart now.”

9. “Hey, hero—nobody’s watching. You can stop pretending you’re fine.”

10. “I know you want to move. I’m telling you—don’t. Let your body calm down.”

11. “You’ve been through hell. Let it process, go slow.”

12. “If you stand up again, I swear I’ll knock you back down myself.” (half-joking, half-terrified)

13. “You don’t have to burn yourself out to prove you’re still alive.”

14. “You’re not weak. You’re wrecked. There’s a difference.”

15. “Just let me carry it for a minute, yeah?”

16. “I’ve got you. That’s not negotiable.”

17. “It’s over. You survived. Just breathe... That’s the only thing you need to do now.”

18. “You’re bleeding through the tough act, sweetheart.”

19. “You don’t have to talk. Just stay breathe.”

And of course it can be followed by…

- A low moan of pain when they register it fully.

- A hand immediately going to their wound, and encountering bandages. When did that happen?

- Bleary eyes roaming about, trying to figure out where they are and how they got there.

- Jolting up, thinking they’re back in the danger or forgetting they’re injured, only to cry out in pain.

- Trying to sit up, but their arms too weak/shaky to support them and they fall back again.

Sobbing with their hands clamped tight over their mouth, eyes squeezed shut, trying to get it over with, trying to cry it all out and force themselves numb again, but every time they think they’re calm enough to try again, another wave of grief and just…despair hits them all over again.

WHUMPCEMBER day 5:

Prompt: "Impaled"

Kuruluş Osman 133. Bölüm