#Out of the Frying Pan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pigeonwhumps · 2 years

Text

Wulfric returns

Out of the Frying Pan masterlist

Whumptober masterlist

Day 21: FAMOUS LAST WORDS | coughing up blood | "you're safe now" | "take me instead"

Taglist: @annablogsposts

After five years of relative peace, Elis' whumper returns.

3.3k

CWs: conditioned whumpee, past abuse, attempted murder

Elis ducks into an alcove at the sound of footsteps and voices. He’s not supposed to be in this corridor, not now, but he is and he’s just thinking of running when the voices come into hearing range and he freezes. There’s King Leofric, yes, there’s always the King, it’s his castle after all, but his companion sends a shiver down Elis’ spine. At the sight of him Elis lets out a small whimper, hastily-stifled, fighting not to drop to his knees and bow as he once had to do.

“I was sorry to hear about the loss of your ward.”

“Yes, it was unfortunate. He was... powerful. I was saddened by his loss. But it was five years ago now.”

“Nevertheless, is there anything I can do? I wasn’t able to be there for you at the time, but I’m here now.”

“No, no. Just your company is good enough. Although I find myself under greater threat over the past few years, since I lost him.”

“Perhaps some protection?”

“Well, if you insist.”

“Of course, my friend.” Neither of them are looking his way but Elis presses himself closer to the wall anyway, squeezing his eyes shut, desperate not to be seen. “Now, let us discuss...”

The conversation dies away after the two turn a corner away from him, but Elis doesn’t move. He can’t.

Lord Wulfric’s back.

It feels like hours later and yet no time at all when someone shakes Elis out of his daze.

“Elis? Elis can you hear me?”

Elis opens his eyes to see a man with long brown hair and a painted black band across his face crouched in front of him, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Sæwin?”

“Oh thank the gods. What happened? You were completely out of it.”

“Wulfric,” he whispers, every muscle tensing at the name. Sæwin frowns.

“Lord Wulfric? He’s visiting, yes, but... what’s he got to do with you?”

“He’s the one who made me fight and kill and I didn’t want to but he made me and I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Elis. You don’t need to apologise. Can you get up, do you think?”

“I–” Elis looks around, noticing their surroundings for the first time. He’s on the floor of the alcove, sitting on his heels, everything locked up tight. “I think so.”

Sæwin holds out a hand and Elis flinches slightly, then places his own hand in the physician’s and lets Sæwin pull him to his feet. He wobbles as his muscles unlock.

“Easy, Elis, I’ve got you. Let’s get you home.”

Elis pulls away before they start walking, it’s weak for him to lean on someone and they’re not allowed to be weak, it’s bad to be weak, he’ll be punished if he’s weak, but Sæwin catches his hand and squeezes it.

“You’re drifting again.”

“Sorry, sir.” Elis blinks away the illusion of the estate, feeling a warm, calloused palm. It’s Sæwin beside them. Sæwin Sæwin Sæwin. No-one else.

“It’s all right.”

They make their way through the castle and the bustling citadel to the townhouse, Elis struggling to keep his head high despite wanting to duck down and hide. Col says he should take pride in himself despite everything he’s done.

Elis pulls off his boots as a large black cat trots up to him and winds around his legs, purring loudly. He scratches her on the head, marvelling at how much she’s grown over the last few years. Mabel fit into the palm of his hand when they took her in, but not anymore. He picks her up and drapes her front paws over his shoulder, supporting her with his left hand.

“Hello Mabes. You been a good girl today?”

“Col?” Sæwin calls. “Are you home?”

Col appears at the end of the hallway, wiping his hands on his apron, the red colour of his hair ribbon matching the painted band on his face. A knight’s band, as opposed to Sæwin’s black physician’s one. Elis tries to keep the facts in his mind to distract himself from his thoughts. “I was just baking, since we gave the servants a holiday. Can’t you smell it?”

“I can smell burning,” remarks Sæwin. Col makes a face, before striding forward and giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Why are you back so early? Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you were both working today.”

At this reminder Elis gasps. “The messages!”

“It’s all right, I have the bag here. I’ll deliver them on my way back to the castle.”

“Thank you.”

Sæwin nods. “As to what happened, Lord Wulfric is a worse man than we thought.”

Elis shudders and Col turns to him, looking him over, concerned. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

Elis swallows. No no he’s not all right but he can’t just say that, he’s not allowed to be emotional.

“Breathe, Elis. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

He holds Mabel tightly, her thick fur grounding him. “Wulfric hurt me. Not now I don’t mean now, before.”

Col’s eyes darken and Elis flinches. “Was Wulfric the one who tried to turn you into a weapon?” Elis nods. “That bastard.”

“Col, you can’t kill him,” says Sæwin dryly. Col scowls.

“I know that. Do you have a plan then?”

“I want to bandage Elis’ brand and then I need to get back to work. If that’s all right with you, Elis.” Elis nods. He needs to hide it, he can’t risk Wulfric or his entourage seeing it, and he doesn’t like bandages no but he likes even less what will happen if Wulfric realises who he is.

What he is.

A monster. A killer. Wulfric’s trained killer, and Wulfric will recognise him and beat him or lock him in the basement or force him to–

Something touches his arm and he jumps, raising his arms to shield himself. Something heavy falls off him with a meow.

“Sweetheart. Elis. Breathe. You’re safe. It’s just Col and Sæwin and Mabel with you.” Elis looks up into Wulfric’s concerned face.

No, Col’s. Elis shakes his head to clear it. Wulfric would be angry, not concerned, it’s Col. Col Col Col.

“You back with us?” Elis blinks a yes. “Good. That’s good. Can you stand?”

Oh. Elis didn’t even notice he was on the floor again. He tries to push himself upright but his mind rebels, in fear of punishment. He blinks twice.

“All right. I’ll carry you. You’re safe, sweetheart. Safe.”

Col rubs his back and he gasps, movement coming back in a rush. He loops his arms around Col’s neck, clinging on, burying his head in Col’s shoulder, because he’s allowed to do that now, with Col and Sæwin, he doesn’t have to be strong and alone anymore.

Col carries him into the kitchen and sets him down on a chair while Sæwin fetches some bandages. “Tunic up then.” Elis lifts his tunic and holds it around his shoulders as Sæwin crouches in front of him, winding the thick white bandages around his torso, up and up until they cover the brand thoroughly, fairly tight so they don’t show but not too tight, the slightly rough linen very familiar. “There you go. That covers the brand. More than just that actually, but we don’t want anyone catching a glimpse at the edge of it and getting suspicious.”

Elis nods. “Thank you.”

Sæwin smiles and gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re welcome. I need to get back to work, will you be all right?”

Elis nods and Col, catching this from over by the stove, says lightly, “We’ll be fine, love. Get out of here.”

“Not until I’ve tried some of that honey I can smell. You must have some to spare.”

Col grins wickedly and eats a small spoonful out of the pot, smearing a little on his lips as he does so. “Sorry, that was the last bit. De-licious.”

“Oh is that so?” Sæwin chases Col around the kitchen, finally backing him against the sink, and Elis watches with a smile as he kisses the living daylights out of Col, tasting the honey from his lips. Finally he pulls back, looking like the cat who got the cream. “You were right. Delicious.”

“Absolutely,” murmurs Col, slightly dazed. Sæwin winks at Elis and pulls him into a tight hug.

“Look after yourself. And Col. I’ll be back for dinner.”

Elis nods, leaning into Sæwin slightly for a moment. “Stay safe.”

It’s a ridiculous comment to make (it’s only the castle, and Sæwin isn’t foolish), but Sæwin just smiled, uncondemning. “I will.” He waves goodbye to Col (who raises a hand slowly in return, still a little out of it) and strolls out the room. A few moments later, Elis hears the front door shut behind him, and Col jerks back to himself.

“What was I doing?” he murmurs, and Elis smirks as deeply as he dares.

“Kissing Sæwin.”

Col blushes, and Elis’ smile turns softer. Wulfric would’ve called Col and Sæwin’s display ‘disgustingly intimate’, but Elis just finds it sweet. For some reason, Col and Sæwin being so sweet together always helps Elis settle.

“I was baking, that’s right. Do you want to read to me for a bit while I get this in the oven?”

Elis nods eagerly and takes the book from Col, flipping to where they left off that morning. “When the great became aware of Gawain’s arrival,

There was general jubilation at the joyful news.

The King kissed the knight, and the Queen likewise,

And so did many a staunch noble who sought to salute him.

They all asked him about his expedition,

And he truthfully told them of his trilu– tribu– um–”

Col slides the tray into the oven and crosses over to Elis. “Tribulations. You’re improving.”

“You really think so?” asks Elis hopefully, before remembering himself and adding quickly, “Not that I think you’re lying or wrong, I don’t I promise, I just–”

“You just don’t believe in yourself enough,” says Col, putting an arm around Elis and pulling him close. Elis nods – he doesn’t believe in himself because he shouldn’t, but Col doesn’t think so. Col lets him have his own opinions but he doesn’t like that one. “Your reading’s improved a lot since we met. You could barely string two words on a page together then, and now look at you. Not long now until we finish this story.”

Elis blushes, looking down at the cat that’s just jumped into his lap. He’s still not used to compliments. And he’s not so good.

“Hey, sweetheart. You really are getting good at reading. You’re improving. Recovering. I’m proud of you.”

Elis frowns. Col’s tone increases the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Col?”

Col sighs. “I have a bad feeling. It’s probably nothing more than the fact that Wulfric’s here, but... if something happens, ever, promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to survive. And I don’t just mean if it’s Wulfric.”

Elis nods vigorously. “I promise.” He’s promised before, he has, and he doesn’t think he needs to promise again no but Col needs it, Elis can tell.

“Good. And don’t forget that Sæwin and I will always, always come for you. I’m sure this feeling’s nothing, but I want you to remember that, sweetheart. All right?” Elis nods again, and Col pulls him into a tight hug, kissing the top of his head as Mabel scrambles away. “You’re safe. You’re going to stay safe, I’m sure of it, sweetheart. I’m sure.”

That doesn’t reassure Elis one bit.

A few days later, Elis is standing at the edge of the field, watching the knights train. He knows it annoys the head knight when he does this and he doesn’t like annoying people no but he can’t stay home on his own, not even with Mabel. That’s what he usually does on days like this, when he’s unable to stay still but unable to make himself move without orders. He can usually stay with Mabel and it’s not too bad, but today is worse than usual for some reason (Wulfric, probably, who Elis hasn’t seen again yet but even knowing he’s here is making him nervous), and he can’t stay by himself. Can’t stay with Sæwin either and get in the way of him saving people, he has to stay somewhere more out of the way. With Col. And even though people are annoyed Col says they just have to put up with it.

It seems an odd way to deal with Elis being an inconvenience.

Elis likes watching the knights, lots of young men and women do and if he lets himself become absorbed in the training he can almost pretend he’s normal, but today his attention keeps drifting. He can’t focus on anything.

And then he freezes entirely.

There’s a familiar set of footsteps coming this way. One heavier than the other, slightly muffled by the boots he’s wearing. Dark brown leather boots with a fur lining and intricate patterns sewn into the outside that Elis can picture like he’s actually looking up at them when he closes his eyes.

It’s Wulfric. Elis’ heart pounds. He couldn’t flee even if he wanted to, he’s completely frozen, it’s a fight not to drop to his knees as his former master comes into view. Col inches closer to Elis under the guise of fetching water and murmurs, “Go home if you want to.”

But Elis can’t.

He takes a shaky breath as Wulfric and King Leofric stop in front of the training field. The knights and spectators bow and curtsy as the King turns his attention to them.

“Knights of the realm. Lord Wulfric has requested to lead you all in a few drills, and I have agreed.” Surprised glances are shared around the group of knights - King Leofric is known for being possessive, he doesn’t normally let anyone else do anything with his men - and the head knight looks indignant, before smoothing his expression over before the King can see. “I will be observing, of course.”

As Wulfric strides onto the field, taking the head knight’s place, Elis thinks his gaze lingers on him. But Col doesn’t seem to have noticed, so please let him be wrong. He’s just paranoid yes that’s it. That must be it.

Elis is worried about what his body will do when Wulfric starts barking orders, but he can’t do anything about that now. He curls his toes tightly inside his boots and clenches his fists. He can do this he can, and then Col will be there to help him after.

“Show me your guards,” calls Wulfric, and Elis grips his arms tightly. That’s not an order he knows well, luckily, but he’s just waiting for one he does.

“Very good. Now, show me your best move...”

He says more, but Elis’ mind goes blank. His best move is taking out the target. Master is looking at the head knight, and the weapon focuses on him, pinpointing the best targets, he’s wearing chainmail but there’s still open targets. His eye maybe. The weapon starts to bend over and reach into his boot–

“Halt!”

Something hits him and he falls to the ground with a thump, something heavy landing on top of him. He blinks, pushing his hands up, as the blankness slowly filters from his mind.

“Elis. Elis it’s me, Col, you’re in Sorestan. Listen to me, Elis. You’re Elis, remember?”

“Col,” breathes Elis, his memory and thoughts returning. “I’m Elis. Elis. You’re Col.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Will you drop the dagger please?”

Elis lets his hand loosen and the dagger drops to the ground with a dull thud. He tangles his now-empty hand in Col’s chainmail to stop himself picking it back up automatically.

“I dropped it,” he whispers. Col rolls off him, pulling Elis’ hand off his chainmail gently and folding it in his own, helping Elis to his feet.

“Easy, sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re Elis, you’re okay.”

Elis nods shakily. He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s not a weapon anymore. Col pulls him into a quick hug, kissing the top of his head.

“Shhh.”

“You!”

They both jump at the sound of Wulfric’s voice and Elis spins around to face him. He looks angry, glowering, and oh– no no no–

“You’re my weapon, aren’t you? I thought I recognised you. My little weapon, who ran away and hid from me. Or did he hide you?”

“I didn’t–” mutters Elis, backing away, nearly inaudible, “no no no no no–”

His voice breaks. He can’t speak in front of his master, he’s not allowed to.

Col glances at him, squeezes his hand. “He didn’t run. You left him to die. He was nearly dead when we found him, you–” Col’s voice hardens, the way it always does when he’s trying to stop his emotions from showing, and Elis flinches, which he always does. “You nearly killed him. He was bleeding out and about to burn to death, and you would’ve known he couldn’t move without your permission. Don’t lie and pretend you care, you don’t, you never have, you’re just regretting discarding of your best weapon.” He pulls Elis to him and squeezes him tight. “And you’re not having him. Never again, you abusive brute. Sir.”

Wulfric’s face has gone red, a vein popping in his temple. Elis shrinks, not moving, he’s not allowed no but his mind shrinks, hiding from his punishment.

“How dare you insult me like that? I am Lord of Magance, far more important than the likes of you. Certainly more important than that.” He looks at Elis in disgust and draws his sword, slashing it downwards, oh gods he’s going to kill Col and there’s nothing Elis can do, he’s not permitted to move–

Clang.

His master’s sword is stopped inches from Col’s neck, pushing against... Sæwin’s. Sæwin’s? What’s Sæwin doing with a sword? There’s a low hum as the metal vibrates against each other.

“I don’t often use a sword, but I suggest you stop trying to kill my family,” says Sæwin warningly, panting slightly. “Trust me, you don’t want to be cut open by an expert in human anatomy.”

Wulfric scowls but he doesn’t get a chance to retort as an authoritative royal voice rings out across the training ground.

“Guards! Arrest Lord Wulfric for attacking one of my knights.”

Wulfric is dragged away by guards, protesting at the top of his voice, and Sæwin drops the sword, turning to Elis and Col.

“Are you two all right?”

Col nods. “I’m well, thank you. That bastard just... got to me.”

“You got to him too, I’d say. Elis? What about you?”

Elis squeezes his eyes shut and nods. It’s the best he can do.

“Well, I’m not sure I believe either of you, I can hear that deliberate lack of emotions in your voice, Col, but... you’re both alive and in one piece. That’s something, at least.” Elis feels Sæwin’s arm snake his back, the physician’s solid warmth shoring up his other side, and he feels more secure. Col and Sæwin wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Not if they could help it.

“The guards have taken Wulfric away, Elis,” murmurs Sæwin, “you’re safe now.”

He’s safe. Safe safe safe safe safe.

So why doesn’t he quite feel it?

In all the fuss and distraction as the three of them stand there, looking after each other, as the knights’ training breaks up into murmurs and whispers and stares, as the head knight almost forgets to dismiss them in his discomfort, amidst all that, everyone misses the greedy, considering look the King gives Elis.

Looking him up and down like a sacrificial lamb at the next spring festival.

11 notes · View notes