#I see a photo of Simon in chains

[moronic-validity]

Dungeon

Okay, I've been really good about posting 2 a day, so here's a little somethin somethin I didn't bother editing or having anyone else look at because it's like 1k of the worst side of Winter.

This is a stand-alone fic inspired by the art of the incredible @numericturtle

Anyway, 18+ because this is literally just Winter hurting Simon.

Simon had no idea how long he had been in the dungeon. It could have been hours, it could have been days; time lost all meaning down here.

He didn’t know what he did to anger Winter this time, but it landed him here. 

He had been stripped, then told to sit down against the wall while Winter shackled his arms above his head, they both knew he’d have to dislocate his shoulder out if he wanted to get up without permission.

Winter walked into the larger room and stared at him through the bars of his cell. He looked pathetic.

Old and pathetic.

Just how he wanted him.

“Are you enjoying your new home?” He taunted from outside the cell.

Simon looked over at him and frowned.

“How long are you going to keep me here?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Winter’s answer was flat.

Simon hung his head. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” 

Winter smiled.

“That is a very good question my dear Simon,” Winter pretended to ponder the answer before gasping, “Oh that’s right! You were planning to leave!” 

Simon looked over to him, puzzled.

“Winter, I never planned to leave you, I don’t know wha-”

He was cut off by a Winter slamming his hand against the bars.

“I know you were planning to leave. Everyone leaves.” 

The entire dungeon grew colder and Simon shivered. 

Winter opened the cell and stepped in, not bothering to close it behind him.

“But this way, you can’t leave.” He crouched on the ground next to Simon. 

It felt like the only light in the room was coming from him. 

“You’ll never be able to leave.”

It was another two days, by Simon’s count, before Winter came back to see him. 

People came and went, he was given food and water, but it didn’t change the fact he hadn’t moved his arms in multiple days. 

Then he came back, smiling and whistling this time.

“Oh Simon, I think I finally figured out how I can get you out!” He sounded so cheery, like he wasn’t the one to put him there in the first place.

Simon didn’t bother responding, just continued staring forward.

Winter tutted before letting himself into the cell yet again. 

“Don’t you want to hear how I found a way?” He sounded almost sad to not be able to share such joyous news.

Simon looked up at him and shivered, not because of the cold, but because of the look in Winter’s eyes.

“How can I get out Winter?” He sounded tired. He was tired. His hands had gone numb after the first few hours, his joints following suit a day later.

Winter clapped and did a little spin. 

“I’m so glad you asked!” He showed Simon what he had originally thought to be a cane, it had an intricately created copper snowflake at the end. Simon looked back into the smiling face of his captor. “I’m going to brand you!” 

Simon pressed himself tighter against the freezing wall.

“I’ll get the copper so cold it’ll burn. It’ll hurt, but only for a moment!” Winter reassured, giddy with excitement, “And then everyone will know who you belong to, where you belong! Isn’t that fantastic!”

Winter was too busy putting together his plan to register the terror Simon was experiencing, or maybe at this point, he didn’t care.

Winter grabbed the chain connected to the shackles around Simon’s wrists and began walking forward, tugging at it to get him to follow. 

His legs had fallen asleep days ago and he struggled to stand, but Winter’s pace didn’t leave room for him to refamiliarise himself with standing. He did his best to stumble to where Winter was leading him.

It was the center of the room.

“I won’t lie to you, this might hurt just a bit.” Winter warned before bringing the chain to the ceiling. 

Simon felt his shoulders slide out of place and he was sure he would be in pain if it wasn’t for the fear. He could only barely touch the ground if he extended his foot, and even then it was only his big toe that made contact. 

Winter circled him, slowly. It was reminiscent of a big cat stalking their prey.

Simon could feel the air get colder behind him, though he couldn’t see what was happening. He could only close his eyes and hope it would be over quickly. 

Winter had the metal hissing from the cold. He couldn’t help but grin, it was going to work better than he had imagined.

Once he was happy with how cold it had gotten, he placed a hand on Simon’s left hip to steady him, then pressed the branding iron firmly against Simon’s right hip.

His screams of agony filled the small room and echoed. It was music to Winter’s ears.

Did he know the agony he had caused him? Did he care? Winter couldn’t help but wonder if Simon knew how it felt to give your heart to someone, only for them to plan to leave you. In the middle of the night no less! It felt like his heart had been torn from his chest and stomped on. 

This was better. 

He could keep Simon like this.

His property, with a permanent reminder of who he belongs to and what happens when his master was tested. 

Winter pulled the copper brand off Simon’s skin and marveled at his handiwork. It was beautiful. His skin was covered in blisters where the design had made contact, with red around the edges, working almost as an outline. It was a sight to behold. 

It was perfect.

Simon hung limply and cried.

The pain in his hip was so intense and there was nothing he could do to ease it. 

Then he fell. 

The chain holding him up had been dissolved and all he could do was lay there, crumpled on the ground. 

Winter scooped him up, careful to not touch the brand and mess up his hard work. 

“What would you do without me…” Winter mused softly before kissing the top of Simon’s head.