#but it started conceptually from a d&d framework and there are elements of it i'm planning to use

[whimperwoods]

Part 6 of Gozukk and Anna. Hurt/comfort. Dinner invitation. Panic attack. Adjusting to this situation is going great for everyone involved I’m sure.

First part is here. Second part is here. Third part is here. Fourth part is here. Fifth part is here.

tw: slavery (past), tw: past abuse, tw: hallucinations (ish), tw: fear of noncon (fairly vague, trauma-related rather than situational), tw: anxiety, tw: PTSD, tw: panic attack, tw: disorientation/dissociation

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! I continue to be astounded by how long it is, so thanks, y’all!

Tag list: @redwingedwhump, @nine-tailed-whump, @thehurtsandthecomfurts @kixngiggles, @bluebadgerwhump, @dragonheart905, @carolinethedragon, @whumpzone, @newbornwhumperfly, @cupcakes-and-pain, @much-ado-about-whumping

****

Anna dozed fitfully for as long as she could manage, curled up in the middle of the rug in a tight ball. She was comfortable enough, comparatively, but everything was so new and unfamiliar that she kept waking herself up with a start, realizing all over again that she was alone in a place full of the unknown. She could lie still, mostly, and the only part of her that shook anymore were her fingers, but as exhausted as she was, she still couldn’t let go.

She let herself get up again when she realized the clean water and a spare rag were still sitting not too far away. It wouldn’t hurt to clean the table and its collection of cartographer’s tools, or the handful of small chests beside it. When that didn’t feel like nearly enough, she steeled herself to enter her master’s bedroom, remembering what he’d said about being welcome to his blankets.

It required a deep breath on each side of the entrance, but she made it into the room, finding it surprisingly sparse. His bedding looked comfortable, the sleeping rug thick and lush, and enough furs and blankets that she could have disappeared into them entirely, if they’d seemed like a safe place to hide.

She laid the furs out straight and folded the blankets neatly, then moved onto dusting a small folding shelf that held the heavy, padded clothing that went under the small collection of orcish-style armor that sat beside it, and a second set of every-day clothes, not quite as nice as the ones he was wearing now, but clean and well-made and not as clearly much-mended as the ones Djaana had brought for her. Below the armor and clothing was a small collection of trinkets that looked like mementos, rather than really valuables.

A handful of large, frightening-looking teeth were strung together into jewelry she was sure looked fearsome on the orc’s large frame, but were safe enough to pick up and dust beneath. There was a small wooden box, decorated with a skeleton’s arm holding a set of scales, and it rattled slightly when she picked it up, but she didn’t open it. The extra lamp oil had a clear purpose, as did the small set of bone pipes, but the small stone disk painted in many colors and the ragged scrap of some larger piece of rich fabric were less clearly explained, and the dagger on the shelf, unlike the one in his belt that he’d tried to hand her, looked old, still sharp, but short from having been sharpened an untold number of times, oddly sized for its hilt.

Once everything was as clean and tidy as she could make it without a broom or more water, she went back to the other room, feeling her shoulders relax as soon as she was out of his sleeping chamber even though she hadn’t fully realized she was tense. She laid back down, facing the tent’s entrance so that she wouldn’t be surprised, and dozed again, so lightly that she didn’t so much dream as hallucinate, sure she heard Master Kir’s voice outside or saw him entering the tent until she started awake and realized she was still alone and (maybe) safe.

She wasn’t sure if it was a relief when her master returned or not.

Gozukk opened the tent flap gingerly and walked quietly, as if he thought she might be sleeping, but when she pulled herself up onto her knees to kneel properly with her head down, he settled farther into his feet and stopped trying to be so quiet.

“The scouting party returned with meat a while ago. We’re almost ready to eat. I thought you might like to join us. You can meet the rest of the tribe, and the rest of my sister’s family.”

She nodded quietly from her place on the floor, feeling tongue-tied. Was this something she should thank him for? Or was it some kind of a test? Was she meant to prove she would be loyal to him? Was she mean to prove she was grateful? Her breath quickened, and her new master took a half-step toward her before he stopped himself short.

Then he started moving again and, somehow he was kneeling beside her once more, getting down where it was harder not to meet his warm, deep brown eyes and just keep looking at them, so oddly open and unglaring.

She almost stopped breathing entirely.

Gozukk held his hand out, an offer, maybe, or an order. She couldn’t be sure yet. Feeling her cheeks heat faintly, she placed her less injured hand into his. He squeezed her fingers gently, reassuringly, and then raised the back of her knuckles to his lips, as if that was the only way he knew of telling her things were alright.

She wondered if he would be as gentle kissing her anywhere else, and blushed more heavily. She couldn’t think about that, couldn’t bear it, couldn’t sit here waiting for things to turn, waiting for the large, gentle man to become just a large man, after all. She licked her lips and tried to steady her breathing.

Her master released her hand.

“If you need to eat in here, I can bring you food. But I had thought I would send you to sleep in my sister’s tent, and it’s a little crowded to take you to if you haven’t had a chance to meet people yet. We could also ask the midwife, Mazogga. She lives alone, but there are a few babies who might come early if something goes wrong, and that seems - a lot to ask of you to help if there’s an emergency.”

Her head shot up before she could stop herself, her eyes meeting his in surprise. “Oh, I - I thought I was -” She felt tongue-tied again, not sure what she could say and what she couldn’t, what would offend to say out loud and what would offend to leave unspoken.

“I thought the deal was that I would - serve you,” she finally said, her voice fading halfway through, failing her as it devolved into a whisper.

“The deal is of no concern,” her master said, something about him steely again, Chief-like. A shiver ran through her. “I don’t expect them to make good on their promises, and I don’t expect to let them through peacefully again, if they enter our territory at all.”

Her tongue was dead in her mouth, numb, her mouth too dry and her mind too blank to ask any of the half-formed questions that swarmed around her.

Gozukk reached forward and lifted her chin with the side of his knuckle, incomprehensively gentle for what felt like the 50th time, but still in a way that left her mind scrambling to keep up, as he said, “You are a guest now. It was clear that if you stayed with him, you would not live as long or as healthy as you should. It is not right, to kill for nothing, or to kill so slowly, to kill the spirit first and the body second. There is no honor in it, and whatever else you may have heard of us, we are people of honor.”

He sounded certain, sure in a way that was too deep to question, in a way too still to change, and her heart raced like it was terrifying, but she wasn’t sure it wasn’t reassuring, too.

She licked her lips again, as if it would make her able to speak again, as if they felt any more dry than the rest of her mouth. Was she breathing? She suddenly wasn’t sure that she was breathing. But then she realized she was, heavily and too fast.

The chief cupped her cheek for a moment, a brief and gentle touch, and then rose to his feet, retrieving a water skin and bringing it to her.

“Here. Drink some. Maybe we won’t push it, tonight. I can sleep out here, in case someone comes to wake me in the night, and you can sleep in the other room.”

“No-” she said immediately, on instinct, before her mind caught up and she realized the only reason she’d said no was that she knew better than to accept a ‘favor.’ Best to stick within the rules. Within the original plans. Best not to rock the boat.

She cleared her dry throat. “No, I - I can do it. Go outside, I mean. I - I can eat with the others.”

Her head was down again, and she was beginning to recognize that this new - chief didn’t like that. She wanted to raise it back up again, but she felt stuck, unable to bear the effort it would take when it felt so wrong to do so, unable to make herself look up and bare her neck, even a little.

Gozukk shifted, fidgety or dissatisfied, or perhaps both, and Anna was suddenly, completely certain that he was angry with her, somehow, that she had done something wrong, that everything was about to turn for the worse.

Her heart rate picked up again, thumping too fast in the side of her neck, pounding in her ears, and her breathing shallowed, speeding into little half-gasps as an electric wave of fear washed over her body, her skin breaking out into sweat and goosebumps.

She was making noise, she realized, her breath too loud, drawing some kind of pained, animal sound out of her throat.

Gozukk’s big, gentle hands were on her shoulders, raising her up, and she realized she had hunched forward, collapsing in on herself, bent nearly to the ground. He lifted her chin again, his dark eyes still open and kind as they met hers. “Hey,” he said gently, a little over a whisper, speaking like she was a spooked animal, and maybe she was, whimpering in spite of herself, her mind blank and frightened and struggling to grab ahold of the hand under her chin, the eyes looking into hers.

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re alright.”

There was a loud roar in her ears. She wasn’t sure where she was. She wasn’t sure if there was a where to be, or if all the world was the tight, frightened body thrumming with the beat of her heart. Gozukk was real. He was real. He’d let go of her chin once she looked up, but he’d put his hands back on her shoulders, and they were real, and he was real, and she didn’t think he was angry. She didn’t think he was angry. She wouldn’t be allowed to gasp like this if he was angry. She wouldn’t be allowed to sit here, a wounded animal, wrapped up in her own body, in her own breath, useless to him, unable to look at him the way he wanted to be looked at, to tell him what he wanted to hear. She wouldn’t be allowed. Would she?

She reached up and wrapped her hands around his wrists.

Yes. He was real.

Her mouth was hanging open again, like a dog. Surely, he was about to see she was no better than a dog. Surely, he was about to shove her away.

He scooted closer, still on his knees, and then lifted his hands off her shoulders and slipped his wrists out of her grip, taking her hands in his own instead and then pressing them to his chest, over his heart.

“Can you feel me breathing?” he asked. “Breathe with me. You’re alright. I just need you to breathe with me.”

She nodded, her breath too erratic to speak. Breathe with him. She could do that. It was an order. It made sense. She could do that.

As hard as she tried, her breath slowed only incrementally, deepening only a little bit at a time, coming under control too slowly, too gradually.

She found herself moving closer to her master, closer, resting her forearms against his chest so that she could feel his breath there, too, leaning her forehead into the front of his shoulder so she could watch his chest rising and falling, his belly filling and emptying, his body breathing calmly like hers couldn’t - couldn’t - could.

By the time she had control of herself again, she was cold and clammy with sweat, her throat sore and her head aching, and she’d curled up into Gozukk’s chest, scooted so close that her knees touched his on the floor, and his hands were still around hers, warm and gentle, not pushing too hard or holding too tight, and now that she didn’t have to think so hard to breathe, she could feel his pulse under her hands, his heart beating strongly and steadily.

She needed to apologize. She needed to apologize, but she was exhausted, even more than before, emptied out and hollow.

The chief sighed, relieved, and she felt his head sink down, too, leaning in toward her and then stopping.

She wanted - something. Needed it.

She didn’t know what it was.

“You’re alright,” Gozukk said again, this time not just to reassure her.

She nodded against his shoulder. “Yes, Sir.”

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, “Or will you not be - safe?”

Maybe she was too tired. Maybe losing her breath had emptied out too much of her mind. She didn’t know what it meant to leave. She didn’t know what it meant to be safe. She didn’t know what she wanted.

He unentangled one of his hands, keeping the other over hers, over his heart. His free hand cupped her face again, but didn’t lift it from his shoulder. She leaned into the contact, because whatever the answer was, it wasn’t that she needed to worry about his hands, when they were here, like this, gentle and away from her hair, away from her neck, away from the parts of her that weren’t on show.

When he moved his hand away from her face, he asked, “Is it alright if I pick you up? I can tell you need rest. Let’s just - get you settled and then we can worry about food later. Or tomorrow. Come here.”

She wasn’t sure how to answer the question, but she was sure that “come here” was alright, and she wrapped her arms around his neck of her own accord, not sure how else to help.

He gathered her up into his arms and rose to his feet without the use of his hands, and the thought of how strong he was sent a shudder through her, but now her ear was against him, and she could still hear his heartbeat, and it was the same as it had been when she was just breathing, breathing, leaning into his heartbeat.

Her heart leapt into her throat as he began to lean down, laying her in his bed, but then he straightened up immediately, almost too quickly, leaving her on the softest surface she’d felt in a long time. She wasn’t just on his sleeping mat, she was on top of the neatly straightened furs, layers of them, and the mat underneath it, and then he set one of the blankets beside her, still folded, but easily within her reach, and she felt another electric wave running through her.

No. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t allowed to have this. This wasn’t for her.

She started to sit up and found her master watching her, standing too still, like he was trying not to frighten her.

“You need sleep,” he said, his voice mild but certain, brooking no argument. “When you breathe so hard like that it’s - it’s like fighting. Like battle. You need to rest.” His face broke into a faint smile. “And perhaps celebrate, but I’m not sure you’re ready for that. Come out to the fire if you decide you are. If you wake up in time. Or sleep, and we’ll know you’re healing. I’ll try not to wake you.”

Her traitor tongue was dead and useless in her mouth again, but as she laid back down, the soft furs cradled her body and she found herself relaxing into them like she hadn’t relaxed for a while.

“Hmm.” Her master’s little hum was one of approval, and then he was walking away, and she still felt a little like her limbs were floating over the bed, skimming over the top, airy and weightless, and she wasn’t sure she could get up if she tried.

She let her eyes fall closed as her limbs came more and more back into her awareness, her own again, and getting heavier, sinking into the furs beneath her, heavier and heavier, too heavy to move, too heavy for her to get up, even if she wanted to, her eyelids too heavy to open back up again, but the tent was still quiet, even if the world outside it wasn’t, and there were no lamps in here, and little light, and then she was sinking - sinking - asleep.