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whumpspicelatte · 5 months ago

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Bathed in Chamomile: Terry in Prince's Solace

Now, some comfort :3

Tismoria and Echo's OCs belong to @echo-goes-mmm / @echo-goes-aaa

Warnings: slavery, past abuse, past implied eating disorder, self-starvation

One of the benefits of being a prince was never having to run your own bath if you didn’t have to. Terrance had savoured it when he was younger, having servants chatter over his head as kind hands ran over his skin and lathered up his hair, sinking down into the water until it went up to his chin.

That was before his body began to degrade, of course. Before he took to dressing himself. Bathing himself. Taking care of himself.

First it was to hide the scarring. Then the way his bones jutted out from under his skin.

Needless to say, his princely status did not mean that Terrance was ignorant to how to prepare a good, warm bath to relax in after a long day’s work, even before his initial capture.

Even if he had cried the first time he’d been settled into the hot springs beneath the Phaedron estate, brought down by one of the friendly household slaves- a maid, Iris. He hadn’t gotten to feel hot water that didn’t burn since being given over to Hesione Trading House, which had him trained and sold as a proper slave. The awkward hug she’d given him, while blissful, hadn’t helped to stem the tears that had flooded his vision. But she hadn’t minded.

Terrance couldn’t help but remember that now as he swirled chamomile oil and rosewater into the steaming hot water filling Master’s tub, a fresh change of clothing in the form of a flowy blouse, pants and underwear folded up neatly to the side.

He’d need to send for some other scents too- lavender and jasmine especially, though perhaps lemon and a few others. They could explore what Master liked best over the next year or so.

A proper meal and another set of tea had been sent for- he’d asked for fresh vegetables, sausages and pull-apart cheese rolls for now, in good part on the suggestion of the slave who had come when he’d rung for help, alongside a teapot of green tea that Terrance knew helped him keep the bad days lighter and more sparse. It should arrive in half an hour or so, according to the slave- Miriam-’s best guess.

He frowned, grabbed the epsom salts and sprinkled a generous dose into the tub, then swirled his arm through the water some more until it had all dissolved.

There. That should do it.

Terrance got up, grabbing a soft bath robe and a pair of towels to set to the side, then paused. After a moment of hesitation, he grabbed a pair of heavy black riverstones and held them in his hands. Closed his eyes.

Slowly, they warmed up. He bit his lip as he settled the spell, so that they’d heat the towels up to the perfect temperature for maximum comfort for his Master, then tucked them between the towels.

After grabbing a few cups for pouring water- he should be able to get away with clearing the water of the epsom salts and essential oils with a hint of magic without Master noticing- and setting them to the side beside the loofah, washcloth, shampoo, body wash and body scrub, he stood up, looking around as water dribbled down his wet arm.

Yes, that looked about right.

With that done, he left the bathroom, heading over to where his Master still sat. He took care to scuff his feet slightly against the floor as he walked. There was little Terrance had liked least than when his trainers arrived and caught him off-guard, back before he grew numb to it. He doubted his Master would enjoy sneaking up on him either.

“Master?” He set his hand carefully on the back of the armchair. “Your bath is ready. Would you like me to help you clean up?”

The boy tilted his head back to look up at Terrance, hesitated, then nodded. A sand-dollar pale hand clutched the arm of his chair tight as he pushed himself up onto his own two feet.

Master was small. Smaller than M- Lord Achilles had been. Florence had just been a little bit shorter than this boy was now the last time he’d seen her.

Thank the gods for magic. He didn’t know how he’d be able to live with himself if he forgot her face, or those of her siblings and cousins.

Gods, what he wouldn’t give to see them again. They must have grown so much.

He quietly followed Master to the bathroom, keeping an eye out for any buckling knees, and shut the door behind them, going to kneel by the tub. Instead of potentially making Master feel nervous, he sank his hand in the still-steaming water again. Still nice and hot, though not enough to burn.

A good bath.

The sound of silk hitting the floor followed up with footsteps quietly padding over the smooth marble floors, a pale foot lifting to sink into the hot water, followed by another. Terrance averted his gaze as his Master entered the water, only looking back up as bony shoulders slipped under the transparent surface. Just in time to wash the tension begin to leave the boy’s body.

Good. It was helping.

“Master?” The boy startled at the sound of his voice, as if he had forgotten Terrance’s presence. Terrance suppressed a smile. “Would you like me to clean your hair for you?”

A pause. Master’s brow furrowed, anxiety pursing his mouth.

Then a nod. A tiny thing, barely noticeable had Terrance not been looking for it.

Terrance’s shoulders lost tension he didn’t even realize had been there to begin with. “As you wish, Master,” he agreed happily, grabbing a cup and casting a discrete purification spell onto it for a few minutes with a tiny nick against his finger, blood barely mixing in with the water before disappearing.

He traced his fingertip against the cup, cut healing up as if it had never been there to begin with. Then he dipped the cup into the water and gently tilted Master’s head back.

Master blinked up at him, a haunted look flooding those ocean-blue eyes. All Terrance did was cup the boy’s cheek. His thumb brushed back some of that jagged dark hair.

“Please close your eyes, Master. To keep out the water.” Just in case.

Those eyes fluttered shut, sealing the sea away for a time, and Terrance gently began to pour the water over his Master’s hair, careful not to let any go further than the temple. One cup. Two. Three.

“There we go,” he murmured, setting down the cup. His fingers ran through the boy’s hair, very gently teasing out the scant few knots. Master’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, all Terrance could see was Alouette curled up in his arms after Chaewon had shooed her away while Alouette was trying to show her something. “You’ve done well.”

A soft whimper dribbled out past Master’s lips as he relaxed into the gentle finger-combing, eyes wide and wet. Something in Terrance’s chest ached.

“I’m going to start washing your hair now, Master, alright?” Adding the shampoo.

Master sniffled, then nodded. Some bloody, aching part inside of Terrance surged forth at the way he leaned fully back into his hands, lashes fluttering closed against his cheeks. So small. So young.

Terrance blinked back the blurring of his eyes in favour of drizzling shampoo into his Master’s hair and beginning to massage it into the black tufts as much as his scalp underneath. His heart squeezed at how Master promptly began to melt.

He barely noticed himself humming a soft Timorsian slave-lullaby under his breath as he rubbed in all the shampoo, then gently rinsed it all out with a whispered warning, a few quiet words of praise slipping free as Master’s eyes slipped shut before Terrance even had to ask. Then Terrance began to lather Master’s hair up again, to get it properly cleaned up.

Then another rinse, and the boy’s hair was clean. If Master could purr, Terrance was fairly sure he would be by now, all the tension having drained from his frail body. His fingers gently scritched and rubbed behind the boy’s ears and along his scalp some more, despite not strictly needing too.

Clearly, the boy needed some proper one-on-one pampering. Good for him that Terrance had been trained to help ease the tension of even the most uncomfortable pregnant individual. He could apply some of those hardwon skills here as well.

His gaze flicked over the boy’s gaunt cheeks and bony shoulders.

Master didn’t have the muscle Terrance had back when he was underweight himself. Somehow, Master was even more bony than Terrance had been too, he’d swear it.

Hopefully Master would be willing to eat after this. Even if just a few bites.

Gently, he eased Master’s neck back up. “Would you like me to help you wash up your body?” He offered. Master nodded, blinking up at him and making him think more of a hopeful puppy than a driftwood-and-sand dollar vessel of the ocean itself.

Unfortunately, there was something Terrance had to ask. “Where should I avoid touching you, Master?”

Predictably, that had Master balking, gaze averted to the side. He wondered for a moment if the boy was going to pull away entirely and insist on washing himself after all.

Instead, he simply gestured vaguely towards his groin.

…alright, Terrance likely should have predicted that.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Thank you for telling me, Master. You’re doing very good.” Best to reinforce the fact that setting up boundaries like this was something good. Best to encourage it.

Master blinked up at him, startled, with that same vulnerable, wide-eyed expression, and some part of Terrance’s heart melted.

He brought forth the loofah and washcloth. “Which would you like me to clean you with?”

The boy looked between the two, brow furrowed, then picked up the loofah and set it on the other side of the tub, somewhat out of arm’s reach for Terrance. He blinked at his Master then grabbing his empty hand and the cloth, holding them up a bit.

“Would you like me to clean you with the washcloth and my hands?” He checked. Master nodded, gaze falling back to the water. Terrance couldn’t help the helplessly endeared smile growing on his lips. “As you wish, Master. Thank you for telling me.”

He drizzled body wash over his Master’s shoulders and back, prompting them to sit up a bit straighter, and got to work.

The large, ugly brand across Master’s upper back was a surprise. An unpleasant one; the word SLAVE plain to see. So were the jagged whip scars tangled over the boy’s back.

Terrance’s lips pursed where Master couldn’t see, something in him shriveling up to better hide away in his lungs. At least this boy had clearly managed to get free.

…maybe Terrance might know more on how to help his Master than he thought.

Gently, he began to massage the body wash into his Master’s skin, biting his lower lip just barely hard enough to bleed so he could use just a slight bit of magic to make heat pool in his fingertips. And just as predicted, Master immediately began to melt into it.

Massage therapy had been one of Terrance’s more pleasant skills to train, in Terrance’s opinion. It felt nice to be able to make others feel good. To help them relax. And now it was paying off.

He worked his way along Master’s nape, his shoulders, his back, his hips, his biceps and elbows and forearms and hands. Getting the boy nice and bubbly all over before rinsing him off. Then he worked on Master’s legs and feet with just a bit of prompting.

A thread of satisfied pride flickered in his heart at finding Master half-asleep in the bath by the time he was done.

Terrance dipped his fingers in the water, finding it was beginning to cool, then gently tapped Master’s shoulder. “Master. I’ve called for lunch to be brought over. Would you like some?”

Master blinked sleepily up at him and nodded. The body scrub could wait for another day.

He couldn’t help but smile, helping him out of the water and toweling him off with the heated towels. His Master didn’t even mind when Terrance helped to dress him up in the underwear, blouse and pants he’d taken out for him.

Ruffling the boy’s hair dry managed to even pull the faintest glimmer of a sleepy smile out of the young man. Terrance couldn’t help but smile back.

Maybe this would work out after all.

#my writing #terry desrosiers #King's Counsel mini-series #reverse au #Prince's Solace #royalty whump #slavery whump #conditioned whumpee #compliant whumpee #carewhumpee #whumpee x carewhumpee #Terry as a caretaker #whump recovery #for juno anyway

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klairewritesthings · 9 months ago

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Whumptober Day 2: Role Reveral

This is set in the wonderful @lumosinlove 's sweater weather universe. Go check out their incredible works!

If Sirius was being completely honest, he had completely lost track of how many times Remus had told him he was a horrible patient. And honestly? Sirius had always been inclined to agree.

Even before they were together, when he was still rehabbing his ankle, Remus hadn’t hesitated to call Sirius out on his bullshit. About the way he would gripe and complain about the pain, only to skip his nightly ice and elevation. Push himself too far, too fast.

Then, when Fenrir broke his ribs, it had become clear just how horrible of a patient he really was. The pain had made him irritable, quick to push and snap and break. Remus had been a saint through it all, a steady presence in the storm of Sirius’ ever changing emotions. So yes, Sirius had agreed that he might just be the worst patient. But now, he was realizing how wrong he had been, because that award went to Remus.

“You’ve got to be kidding me”. Remus’ head snapped around so fast Sirius was surprised it didn’t just keep on spinning.

“Sirius! Hey!” Sirius narrowed his eyes at Remus’ fake grin. His fiancé was currently teetering dangerously on his crutches, attempting to carry a plate of saran wrapped leftovers without falling on his ass. “You hungry?”

“No, but if you were, you should have called me.” Remus shrugged, which only further unbalanced him.

“You were busy.”

“I really wasn’t”. Sirius actually had been pretty busy, spending most of the day running around trying to keep Remus from further injuring his dislocated knee. Except, Remus had said he was going to lay down for a bit, and Sirius thought it was safe to sneak into the home gym and get a quick workout in. Evidently not.

“It’s just lunch, I’m completely capable of making lunch.” Sirius scoffed.

“You’re not even capable of walking right now.” The glare Remus turned on him was so harsh Sirius raised his hands in defeat.

“Okay, okay, désolé, you’re right. I know you can make lunch.” Remus narrowed his eyes, as if he was trying to suss out whether Sirius was mocking him. Then, he slowly began moving towards the counter. When Sirius didn’t stop him he continued, unwrapping the leftover thanksgiving Turkey.

When Remus reached up to open the microwave that hung above the stove Sirius held his breath, watching closely for any wobbles in balance. The last thing Remus needed was to fall. However, he managed to successfully place the plate in the microwave and turn it on without incident.

Remus turned, a gloating grin on his face. “See, told you I could make-” For a second Sirius didn’t understand what had happened.

One second Remus was basking in his small victory, the next he was all but collapsing onto the tiled floor. A loud squeak startled him out of his silence, a red rubber dog ball rolling innocently away from where Remus was now crumpled.

Continue reading on ao3

#whumptober2024 #no.2 #roll reversal #marauders #sweater weather lumosinlove #lumosinlove #fic #injury recovery #trauma response #coops #wolfstar #sirius black #remus x sirius #remus lupin

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